


The life we live

by moonfox281



Series: Fumes of our love [4]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gun Violence, M/M, Maybe I'll add the sex, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2018-09-25 13:47:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9823250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonfox281/pseuds/moonfox281
Summary: The usual life of Dick and Jason as vigilantes, crime boss, marriage couple, and brothers and sons.(Basically where I fill in all the prompts I've received about this AU.)





	1. Protection

**Author's Note:**

> Haha, I did not expect this. Seriously, I was really over this series, I was like: "Yes, this is this, I'm out of idea now and there's nothing bad about it, I'm just gonna leave it here happy and satisfied." And then this came up.

 

 

 

 

“Where are they?”

 

Jeff pulled the front suit of the goon, lifting him off the ground. His men went around collecting weapons and bullets from the dead bodies.

 

“Come on, spit it out. Or you wanna be like your buddies here?”

 

He pulled the goon closer, cocking his head aside to motion the dead bodies lying everywhere.

 

“We’re out of time, Jeff.” Trevor spoke, an AK in his hand and waving off the other to go get the trucks. He looked around, they’d made a mess here, Blue wouldn’t be happy.

But that wasn’t their first priority right now.

 

“Wait a minute.” Jeff barked out and dropped the man.

The goon slammed his ass to the ground of the rooftop. He didn’t even get near to flee away when a bullet flew out and hit the concrete right next to his hand.

He jumped and slipped, his back flat on the floor, and that was when the second bullet fired, hitting the ground right next to his ear, so close it burnt some hair.

 

The goon yelled like a pig being butchered alive, Jeff kept firing, and Trevor kept tapping his foot in patience and looking at his watch, not a single one in the gang flinched when blood spilled out from the goon’s shoulder.

“Oops, did I miss there?”

“..Ple..please...se”

“Oh well, seems like I’ve got one bullet left, better put a good use to it, right?” Jeff grinned, teeth flashing like a shark spotting its prey in the deep water. There were fire in his eyes and the scar on top of his eyebrow was twitching slightly.

When Jeff pushed the pistol right in the middle of the goon’s head, words and salvia spilled out like a waterfall.

“I talk I talk! They’re at the 21’st factory at the dork, the warehouse with the fat lady in the front, 50 miles from here! Please just let me go!”

“Now that’s a good boy.”

 

Jeff clicked the trigger.

 

“Let’s go.”

 

Not waiting for Trevor’s order, the rest of the gang jumped down the rooftop and on to the trucks just pulled over, leaving behind a bloody battleground from a fight they had won too easily.

 

 

 

 

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

 

“ Yo babe? Babe, wake up.”

 

Dick groaned when he got the Portuguese hitting his ears, grunting lightly because of the headache.

“I’m up, low down your voice, Hood. And stop calling me babe!” He swirled, testing the chains were holding him and Jason back to back together in the chairs.

“Okay, gish, you’re catty when you know you’re wrong.” Jason breathed out and flexed his arms to see how tight their bind was.

“No, no I’m not! I just don’t want you call me like that in the middle of this!”

“Why? Getting regretful of being with me?” Jason grinned, knowing too well how that joke did to Dick.

“No! Jesus, I… it just makes me feel weak, okay?”

“You mean it makes you feel like the woman in the relationship? Hate to tell’ya, but you are, Birdie.”

“I am not!”

“Yeah you are. You’re the one who yell at the family about eating healthy and extra protection on the field, you get bitchy every time I smoke, and the Demon Spawn comes to you every time he and B got into a fight. ” _And you’re the one who gets fucked 9 out of 10 times_ didn’t come out cause that was playing dangerous. Jason didn’t want to risk living for the rest of his life on the couch.

 

Dick didn’t get to answer when the men walked over, armed from tip to toe.

“You two look comfortable for a couple of trapped bats.” A man walked in front of them, fully geared, clearly the leader.

“Yeah, gotta say I’ve got a thing for SM.” Jason’s mouth worked but his middle finger tapped on the leg of Dick’s chair.

_‘6 above, 13 down here, 4 on the top, 12 outside.’_

 

Morse code.

 

“You Bats are losing your touches. Surrendering yourself like a coward, thought you’re better than this, Red Hood.”

 _‘Supplies on the back, got samples. Machines on the second floor, need to destroy it.’_ Dick tapped back, his fingers brushed Jason’s when he tried to reach to his inside of Jason’s gloves for the pick.

“And you, it’s been long since you again, Nightwing. Last time I saw, you were still wearing red.” The man squatted down in front of them, pinning his look on Dick.

“What do you know, I’m more of a blue kind of guy.” Dick smirked, starring right back to the guy.

“Ha, gotta say it suits you more.” He cocked his head aside and stared at Dick’s sitting position for a long silent moment before mouthing. “What a pity.”

 

The chains suddenly tightened and Dick knew too well what was going to happen.

“Yousonofa…” Jason bit back his tongue when Dick pinched his palm.

 “Well, Boss’s gonna be thrilled when he heard I caught two Bats.”

 

The man stood up and walked around them, watching in interest.

 

 _‘What are you doing?’_ Jason tapped his finger, intentionally brushing Dick’s while doing so.

_‘Need to get him talk’_

Jason groaned under the helmet.

 

“Why are you here? Two Face’s still in jail.”

 

_‘Daddy’s perfect Boy Wonder, aren’t you?’_

_‘Not now! I was very close when you decided to drop your feet in.’_ Dick was almost done with the lock, taking his time to wait for an answer.

 

The man grinned and got near to Dick, bending down to look in his domino.

“Now now, prey doesn’t get to do the asking.”

 

Jason didn’t see it by the side he was sitting, but he got a feeling that the fucker’s face must be really close to Dick’s right now and it took him everything to not just bust out of the chains and shoot him right in the face.

 

“Come on, you caught me, what can I even do all chained up like this?!”

“Fair point, but you’re a Bat. Hate to say you’re quite unpredictable.”

 

Dick only smirked, a curl drew its way on his split lips, shifting the new bruise on the corner of his mouth a bit.

After a moment, the man let out a heavy breath and grinned back.

“Alright. Just because you’re pretty.”

 

Jason wrinkled, trying his best to restrain himself when he felt the man leaned down closer to whisper words in Dick’s ear. He heard his knuckles cracked and was practically counting down in his head, trying to cool down a bit and form a decent plan since Dick was already getting what he want.   

_‘I’m gonna kill this son of a bitch when you’re done.’_

_‘Nobody dies tonight. You’re in my play.’_ Dick chuckled (just to keep the act) when the man’s words slowly slipped to another point, completely irrelevant with what he had ask for. His tapping was heavy and clear.

_‘Your play means handling your ass over to 35 men? Great plan so far?!’_

_‘I had it under control.’_

_‘Yeah?! If I didn’t come, you’re sure you still be able to flip your wings around and handle all of them, or you were just gonna fall first and think later like every fucking time!?’_

_‘You’re distracting me.’_

_‘Of fucking course you were gonna do exactly that!’_

Jason didn’t give a damn about what the hell was it that Dick even got from the guy, but the bastard was breathing like an angry bull and he knew exactly what was that fucking mean, why? Cause he himself sounded exactly like that when Dick gave him a freaking lap dance on his birthday!

 

 _‘And you? What were you thinking, handling yourself over like that!’_ The locked snapped open and Jason had to thump his foot on the floor to cover the noise.

_‘You don’t like me killing and I didn’t know what the fuck you were planning, so it was the quickest way to get close and not to blow your cover.’_

_‘Nice to see you trying, you’re being romantic tonight.’_

Jason chuckled lightly, shaking his head.

 _‘You’re so done tonight, Pretty Bird.’_ He pinched Dick’s ass after finishing tapping. _‘Are you done yet, or you’re just gonna keep flirting with that fucker right in front of your husband?!’_

 

 

Jason didn’t feel Dick’s respond on the wood in time when his ears caught a few flying words, which were basically just cracks until he managed to spot out “pretty”, “ass”, and “fun” in a low hoarse voice.

That was when Jason’s vision went red, he shook off the chains all around his upper body and shot right up. This moment was when he decided to fuck the plan and his promise to Dick, he needed this bastard died _now_.

 He turned right around and grinned when the thug’s face slipped into horror, using every strength he got to punch him right in the face.

The bastard flue away along with his teeth in other direction, and Dick shook off the chains, did a cartwheel and flipped into the head of the chairs, using his hands to hold up his body and swung his legs to kick off the upcoming thugs.

“Can’t believe you, Hood!” Guns stared to fire and Dick’s scream barely got to Jason’s ears.

 Jason picked up a thug and used him as a shield while getting closer to the table where they kept his guns, knives and other stuffs among the endless list of lethal weapons they had pulled out of him, along with Dick’s escrimas.

“Get behind me!” He screamed and assembled his guns in the record speed.

 

Dick did a double flip and rolled behind him, flipped the table to cover them and took the escrimas Jason was handling him with a grin.

“Ready for the fun?”

 

Jason smirked behind the helmet, he took out the clips and replaced them with rubber bullets, something he had made a habit of bringing along since he married Dick. He looked over the vigilante, who was wearing a calculated look.

Clicking off the safeties, Jason grinned.

“Lady first.”

 

Dick kicked him in the chest and flipped off from his cover, swinging around in the rain of bullets. Jason kicked the table over a few thugs, knocking them out cold. 

 

This was one of their typical nights, one versus ten, or in this case two versus thirty five, with guns pointing at them, and all they could do was to swing, dodge and throw punches and kicks. It was risky, and definitely not worth it. This was why Jason sent a private team with good men to protect Dick, because of the boundaries the man couldn’t cross for being the ’hero’ and ‘good guy’, even it was for saving himself. So when Dick slipped off his men’s radar, they panicked, Jason panicked, everyone panicked.

It was stupid, Jason knew. With the line of their job, Death always hovered above their head every time one went on patrol, and Jason never thought he would afraid of saying goodbye or being died, especially when everyone in their family, including Jason himself, had already got a feeling of the coffin. He was ready for the worst case to come, ready to lie out cold on the street with a bullet wound or again, to stuck in the middle of an exploding warehouse, but now, after having everything he never thought he could imagine to have, a family, a love one, a purpose, he wasn’t ready anymore. He didn’t want to end this, not now, not with Dick.

 

So when a thug shot on his back, the armor took it good but the hit was hard enough to make him step ahead a foot, he drop his vision on the black and blue blur that was Nightwing, and turned to shot off the one that got the ball to fire at him.

How big a mistake it was.

 

Dick shouted at him, told him to duck because a goon had took advantage of the situation and was about to bash a chair on Jason’s head when Dick kicked him right in chest, sending him right across the end of the room in midair.

Jason could literally felt the moment froze in front of his eyes, cause he knew what was going on next. His breathing stopped on that because he knew, saving his ass was a good thing, but it left Dick open, breaking his defense like an urchin being torn in half. And when the shot came, everything stopped.

 

When Dick thumped down to the floor like a bag of flour, it was like a slow motion scene, he could hear his painful groan in the middle of bullet fires. And when the goon stabbed him right on his left shoulder, the blade sunk all the way through skin and meat, Jason didn’t flinch, didn’t lose his stand or balance, didn’t even let out a single sound.

He slowly turned his head back, digital eyes flashed cold stare along with the dim light hit the helmet, the goon stared at him with disbelief, stepping back with wide eyes like he was 12 feet ahead of a tsunami.

 

Jason got a bloody handful of the thug’s head before he could know, it was the familiar rage again, the fire and cold venom fluid in every of his blood strains and bonds.

 

Jason didn’t see anything anymore, only the sight of Dick lying on the ground, crossing his escrima to hold a blade off his throat.

 

    

 

 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

 

 

“Eagle eye, how’s the sight?”

 

He let go the thug’s front suit, or armor, and heard the sound of the body thumping down to the cold ground with eyes strained forward.

 

“13 outside, all armed, MPSA3, 2 G19 pistol each, bulletproof armor, no sensor. Got 4 on the top, 2 snipers, Mark 11.0, low stuff, no heat vision.”

“Raptor 1 copy, sending in the drones.”

Jeff kicked the dead body with his boot while waiting for the second signal.

 

This wasn’t how tonight supposed to be. Just 4 hours ago, he was ready to get home with Blue on his watch, get change and go up to have a smoke with Boss then get back down to have a decent sleep. It was a damn nice plan he had until the vigilante’s GPS signal popped off his scanner like a bubble. He panicked, called all of his team and got them all panicked as well, he contacted Trevor, his friend panicked and contacted Boss, the man panicked, in his own cool way.

Basically everybody lost shit when Blue disappeared.

 

When Boss called back and told them he had found his lost bird, Jeff swore to God he didn’t think he had ever held his breath that long before. But after an hour, they didn’t come back.

Jeff waited for another 15 minutes extra then decided to call Trevor, Boss and Blue didn’t contact him either.

 

So that led them to here. The whole gang had screwed the whole city up, literally came out and knocked on every neighbor’s door to dig up their location, even when it meant cleaning up burning houses and bloody bodies for Blue not to see them and throw a thunderstorm over their heads, including Boss’s.

Gotham’s dock was probably heavily polluted after tonight with the number of corps in its water.

 

“I’ve got image. Sending over.”

“Got it.” Trevor motioned him to get over and poked at the digital screen. “It’s like 4th of July in there.”

The drones got a high position to get a full picture of what was happening inside the warehouse, but the noises and blasts of guns, smoke bombs and all other stuff were mixed together and made it hard to pick out what was actually going on other than a hell of a fight.

 

 “Alpha1, you’ve got the shell opened now.” The ground task reported .

“Well done, pals. You’ve got the floor cleaned yet?” Jeff turned the channel open and moved the conversation on the screen so the digital group and Trevor could see it too.

“You mean no blood no body for a particular bird not to see?! Where did your mind go, bud? We just slit throats and headshot without spilling _anything_ on the floor. That should be on my tombstone, give me some fucking credit, man!” The guy sounded like he was ready to get a second round. “Anyway, send the truck over. And some of you laughing bastards better get me a clean suit cause I’m bathing in blood here and I’m not getting my head plugged out by Blue for this.”

The whole teams on the roof chuckled. A guy punched Jeff’s chest lightly but all eyes were glued on the screens where the drones were showing the interior.  

Jeff didn’t smile because he spotted Boss. The man was fighting like a killing machine, firing gun over others while crushing a guy’s head with his other hand, and he just shot a guy three times in his mouth. Something was off, Boss was never that brutal when Nightwing was around.

 

 “Wait.” He slummed over a screen and frowned. “Zoom on that.”

 

And when the spot was cleared, they all saw it. Blue was down, half baked in blood, and it was a damn gun in front of his head.

“Fire the drones, **_now_**!” Trevor shouted, and the drones fired almost sooner than the command, sending the goon upon Blue’s body to the ground along with a few others. The drone’s team had seen it too.

“Take off the snipers.” Jeff punched the main link button to all team, growling to the micro. “We’re coming in 2.”

 

 

 

 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

 

 

Jason wasn’t seeing anything.

Any moving thing flashed through his vision, he attacked, on full force. He must had changed all the clips out of conscious because the red he saw was definitely more from just the anger fog of him.

He didn’t even feel anything when his knuckles cracked the skulls of the thugs, or the stab wound on his shoulder. His body just moved in free will, like a machine went rogue. Because Dick was down, and he was in blood, and Jason’s instinct was to protect him.

Anything moved, he crushed.

He didn’t know when he had released the two swords on his hands out, but he was swinging it through midair when he realized. He was letting it out, the rage he knew was still there deep down inside, the need to crush and destroy anything or everything, the boiling hunger for fresh warm blood of the Pit and of the inner demons in himself, the aching need to protect Dick and to keep him safe. Now all of it was out and Jason must look like a monster right now, a beheading-bones crushing-meat splashing monster.

He heard screams and painful yelps in the air, he heard pleading words begging for mercy or a spare of life.

He kept continue.

 

“لږ وزر!”

 

There it was.

That voice.

That same voice that soothed him in his nightmare, that sang for him in his highest and most intimate moment.

That same sweet voice that melt his heart and head every single time he heard it, was calling him, in another language, perfect Pashto that made him question that whether or not the relationship with the Tiger King of Kandahar was ‘not something special’ and ‘all over’ as he claimed it to be, but still, the familiar pet name.

 

_‘Little wing’_

It was like being pull out of a concussion, his vision suddenly cleared and the ground steadied under his feet. The familiar soft curve of lips and jawline appeared in front of his face, a gentle hand on his shoulder and Jason just forgot how to breathe in a moment. He blinked, head ticking and eyes wide looking straight at Dick.

The fire inside him flipped off all at once.

 

“Everything’s over. You can let him go now.” Dick said softly, his hand squeezed Jason’s a little.

 

That was when he realized he had his hand on someone’s throat, and that particular someone looked terrifyingly like one of his men. That explained why Dick hadn’t used English with him.

 

“Pff… can’t breathe... Boss.”

 

The guy held both of his hands on Jason’s arm but and was looking straight at him, alerted and suffocated but didn’t fight back.

Dick’s hand on his shoulder tightened and Jason let go, sending his man’s feet back to the ground. He coughed and held his hands on his knees but then waved off Dick’s worry look.

“Been through worse.” He hoarsely replied.

 

Only till now Jason’s shoulder dropped. He looked at Dick, eyes wide and still high from the burst of the constricted energy. His vision dropped to the hand Dick clenched on the side of his stomach, blood was oozing out from it.

He turned and pulled at Dick’s wrist to take his hand out from the wound to take a look at it. It was shallow, missed the main organs, but the bullet was still inside and that meant it must hurt like a bitch. Glancing through Dick’s shoulder, he saw Jefferson taking off his tactical mask and trailing a slum goon by the back of his neck, the one that interrogated Dick when they were tied together, right into Dick’s blind spot.

His face tensed when he tried to keep it cool and the scar was twitching lightly, the look he was giving Jason, it was asking for permission.

 

Jason looked straight back, didn’t say anything but just cupped Dick’s cheeks and kissed him, one eye open to see, because he must. Jefferson’s both hands on the goon’s head and the horror burned in his wide watery eyes, and all the light in it were cut short by a clean twist.

That was when he closed both of his eyes and just enjoyed the kiss.

 

 

When he let Dick go, all bodies had been removed.

 

 

 

 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

 

 

Blue winced when the medic guy took out the bullet, but he sat still and didn’t make a sound.

 

He sometimes wondered if it had gotten into his blood from the start, being tough and bearing this weight of the world.

Nightwing had been the first Robin, that meant he must be into this the longest and since he was just a kid, but again, weren’t all Robins were.

 

They were left with the medic team and a small task to make sure if either of them needed anything. The rest of the gang had gone off cleaning the scenes.

Boss was looking at him now, the grayish blue of his eyes pinned on the hero’s figure, face emotionless even when the medic guys pulled out the knife that had been on his left shoulder all these times. His hand motioned the guys of the task that was standing next to him, they handed him the flask. He chunked it down when they wrapped the bandage around his wound, sharp eyes stilled on the vigilante.

 

Trevor waited till the medic got all done to give him his helmet, the new one in many of the spares at their bases. Boss shooed it away and walked over Nightwing’s place on the rooftop, tapping the doctors for them to clear out of his way and got his hands back on to his bird.

 

They didn’t talk much, pure body language and eye contact. They had reached the level of understanding each other without using word or sign.

 

None of the team made a comment about Boss’ face, about how young he looked, or how much anger was held down beneath those eyes.

Jeff had seen his face before, young and mature at the same time, with eyes of a tiger and mind of a leader.

Boss’d made it clear, he didn’t hide his face under the helmet for the sake of identity, but for the security in battle.

Out of curiosity, Trevor had searched for him, using everything, from taking blood sample, to scanning his iris and fingerprint. No file, like he didn’t even exist in this world. The man knew what he was doing, like always.

 

Looking over them now, Blue’s head tiredly rested on Boss’ shoulder, and the man just closed his eyes with a tight knot on his eyebrows, Trevor suddenly felt his stomach twisted. Had they ever got a chance to rest?

After all, they were humans, like all of them.

 

 

 

 

 

 --------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

 

 

“Dick! What happened to you??!”

 

They just made it to the door, his hand was still on the door knob and Boss carrying a sleeping Blue followed right next. Jeff dropped the bag full of guns, explosive and other deadly weapons that one must not just simply drop down the floor like that, and apparently, it fell right down to Boss’ foot, causing him to howl out a long, loud “fuck”.

Blue jerked up from Boss’ shoulder, eyes heavy and tired from the drug the medic team had pumped into his body to sooth down the pain. When he saw the boy, he immediately wrinkled in Boss’ hold, demand to be let down.

Boss sighed and knocked his head backward while tightened his hold on the man like handling a prissy cat, obviously tired and annoyed.

“Hello, Timmy.”

 

 

 

  


	2. Meeting a family member.

Jeff rushed into the bathroom. His blood boiled and he got that ringing sound in his ear like the operator of his brain wasn’t giving any shit of what channel he was on right now. Planting his palms on the countertop, the big fat mirror was staring right at him, showing a big dark man, armed from head to toe with an expression of a diabetes patient on low blood sugar.

The bright warm light from the high ceiling was fucking with him so Jeff slowly trailed down the marble tile, elbows on the knees and just sat there like a beat up soldier, feeling the goddamn tiredness flushing through every core. His fingers itched for a cigarette, he’d always got a pack in the pocket, and right now it felt a hard-on temptation. The ceiling was nailed with smoke alarm devices, and Jeff didn’t dare to think what kind of lecture he would get for lighting that inner boner on if even Boss got kicked out of his own place for doing it.

Jeff shoved his hand in the armor’s pocket and pulled out a burner phone with only a few contacts in it. Currently, this was his only way to crawl out of the built up pressure. He dialed the number and hit his head on the black polish wood under the double sink vanity while waiting, eyes roaming around the massive room while trying not to think about the fact that this was where all the mundane routine of theirs happened.

 

“Trevor’s speaking.” The other lined picked up.

“There’s a kid in their home!” Words just blurted out, out of nowhere, and even Jeff was surprised by the fact that he started panicking.

There was silence for a moment, and he could slowly begin to hear the faint sound of all the weird devices in the bathroom that Boss put on everywhere.

“As for ‘ _their’_ , you mean…”

“You know who I’m talking about.” He stood up, needing to move around for a strange burning feeling started to tickle all of his muscles.

Trevor sighed, and through the phone, it sounded rougher and clearer than normal.

“Jeff, we just killed 2 and a half dozen of people, burned down a warehouse, and watched Boss went on his menacing mass murder mode tonight. The last thing I want right now is hearing your emergency meltdown about the man and Blue’s latest adoption at 3 in the fucking morning.” 

“What?” Jeff was all but snapping. “No. Fucking fuck, they didn’t adopt that kid!”

“They’ve been fucking way before Boss got your strings, what’s your damn problem now, man?”

“That’s a kid, but not their kid, you fuck!” Jeff felt the need to shoot down something but didn’t move a finger as he paced around the room and stared at the two red and blue toothbrushes in the Mason jar between the ceramic double sink.  “That boy must be only a few years under Boss. Blue eyes, black hair, white, muscular, got a standing posture like a pacing dog and a fucking earpiece.” The more details he gave, the more Jeff realized how much attention he had given. And that was freaking him out.

“Wait… hold it right there. You’re not doing this to me.” It must have got more obvious because Trevor’s voice was raising, the sleepiness in it had all but faded away.

“No, you’re listening, asshole. I ain't gonna do this all alone!”

“Fuck!!!” Trevor screamed. “Fuck you, you mother fucking shit. It’s 3 in the fucking morning and you’re fucking telling me there’s 90% of chance that you just saw a Bat kid’s bare face!” Trevor was breaking down now but Jeff was just glad he had someone to panic with. “Is this line secure?”

“It’s my phone.”

“Okay… crap, okay.” He heard the sound of Trevor’s bed slowly creaking, showing the man must have left it and was now pacing around the room. “Did the kid say anything to you?”

“No. He just glared at me, I’m hiding in the bathroom.” Jeff went further inside and was disappointed when finding no window near the fancy hot tub or the toilet room. “And there’s no way out. I can’t stay here forever, man.”

“Why asking me? Seriously, why did I know you?”

“Boss.”

“You wasn’t supposed to answer. Everybody knows that.” Trevor groaned.

“I know, just feel like shitting with ya.”

Finding frustration coiling up, Jeff started pacing around, needing a distraction, needing something other to think about because he could feel his brain was getting overload. He was never much of a thinker, outside of the field, it was more of Trevor’s work, being Boss’s right hand in all stuff.

“I don’t know what to do. I need to check on Blue, the guy was prissy like an alley cat when he spotted the kid.” He sighed, leaning against the countertop once again and washed a hand over his face. His other hand touched something under the marble surface and pulled up what happened to be a Glock 26.   

He quickly put the gun back to its holder and tried not to be too drawn by curiosity about the possibility of what else he could find in here if he tried.

There was a knock on the door that had definitely put Jeff off guard.

“Did you get piles in there or what? Get the fuck out of there, Jefferson.” That’s was definitely Boss’s voice, the same hoarse and rumble tone that was not too far different from the robotic sound of the helmet, that Jeff had learned to remember.

Quickly shutting the phone, his limbs automatically made its way through the command, and when the door was opened, Boss was standing right there, half naked with a white pad on his left shoulder, hands covered in blood with a medical tray full of bloody bandages.

“Tell the medic team to lower the dose on him next time, still above average but lower than mine.” Boss tossed everything in the tray into the trash pin near the door and went to the sink to wash his hands. “And use less fentanyl next time, that stuff gives him nightmares.”

Boss sounded like a beat up husband after a bad fight at the dining table. The tiny diamonds around the plain black ring on his finger shined when the water hit it, making Jeff wonder how long they’d actually been married.   

“”You know,” Boss turned back and looked at him. For the first time, those eyes didn’t feel like coming from a gladiator. “My brother won’t bite. Just go see Dick already.”

 

He made it so casual, like a Bat kid wouldn’t ask for his head after seeing a strange ass full armed man in his brother’s home. Jeff could just stand here and think about the possibility of what would be going to happen when he stepped out of the main door tonight. Would he wake up and find himself in the middle of Damascus, wearing nothing but boxer and handcuffs? Or would he find Batman breathing down his neck while taking a piss behind a warehouse on a mission? Knowing how the Bat worked, that kid was probably done checking his background by now.

But that didn’t do anything to the fact that he was actually itched to see how Blue was doing. Seeing all the blood and bandages, the guy must have torn his stitches.

 

When Jeff found the nerve to get out, the kid was still there sitting on the sofa in the living room, a laptop in front of him in the coffee table, staring at him like a hunter spotting a wild animal in calculate. Watching in this angle, Jeff realized the kid was actually quite look-alike to Boss, the same shade of black hair, the same blue eyes though only a few shade warmer. He wondered the possibility that they were actually brothers in blood, and the whole Batclan was actually a family in real life.

If that was the truth, a chance that Boss and Blue were incest just knocked the thought out of his head right the way.

 

Ignoring the staring he got, Jeff made a straight line to the bedroom, holding his breath all through the way without notice.

Blue laid there in the bed, blanket half way down showing the bare bandaged abdomen, sleeping, wounded, tired, so young, and beautiful.  

How old was he, exactly? He looked so young, that kid too, even Boss without those predator eyes of his, like they could still be college, could still be sniffing weed and waving fucks around. Was he really Batman’s son like that guy always acted like? If that was true, then what kind of shit father that let his kid fighting crime at the age when normal kids were still eating mud!?

Combing those dark locks away from Blue’s sweaty face, his breaths was almost too shallow to be normal, and the hit wasn’t that lethal, but this ain’t no Hollywood, shots like that could kill too if there wasn’t enough time. Jeff couldn’t help but feel his stomach drop while watching the footage from the drones.  

 

“You’re drooling.”

 

Fuck, didn’t that almost made Jeff piss himself.

That kid was standing right in the doorway, arms crossing, eyes piercing holes on the back of his head. He immediately thrust his hand back like the hair had electrocuted him.      

“Does Jason know?” He asked, like Jeff got any flying fuck what he was talking about.

“Know what?” He fisted his hand and put his palm back on Blue’s forehead, much slower and calmer now, checking the temperature with a fog of fear that what kind of thought the kid was having when he saw Jeff’s earlier action.

“So he knew, but you don’t.” The kid said it out like a statement. What was his name again? Boss called him Timmy, so Tim it was.

“Listen, kid−”

Kid frowned, and Jeff swore he didn’t swallow hard enough to be hearable.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just wanted to check on…”

“Dick’s fine. Jason just wrapped his wound back again. You guys did a pretty good job.” His eyes kept on track of Jeff’s every movement, making him slowly sweated like a pig under all those heavy armor. “Now, what happened?”

 

Fuck, for a moment, the Tim kid did sound exactly like Batman. Well damn, he was definitely a Bat kid.

 

“Harvey’s goons. They got Nightwing first, Boss went look for him later, told us to stay low and wait. We waited too long.” Jeff turned to look back at Blue, his Blue, their Blue, Boss’s Blue, making sure the guy was still breathing evenly.

“When we got there, Boss and he were already wounded, there were too many of them. So we took them down.”

 

That was it for all Jeff got to explain. He did what he had to do, the gang all did what they had to do. It was Blue’s life on the line. He would have done more, if it was necessary. Boss had given him one job, _one job_ , and it was to keep the love of his life safe. He trusted him, and Jeff had no intention of letting him down.

 

Tim looked at Jefferson in a calculated silence, watching the way the man let his hand hang loose around Dick’s face, like all it needed was for Tim to turn away and his fingers would be back combing down the sweat dark hair.

It didn’t surprise him, not anymore. He had, through time, understood how easily Dick attracted people like a human magnet, and growing up with a sex symbol of a brother, Tim got the experience of award puberty first handed.

Man, time flew when it felt just like yesterday he stared up in awe at the flying acrobats in Haley’s show and Jason threatened to bust a cap in his ass when he first came back, and now those two had already been married for almost 2 years.

Jason’s men now care for Dick too, key point to never let the Boss’s lady down. The good thing about aggressive people was, they tend to expand their emotions easily, and that drawn others toward them. Jason was a star example, his gang wasn’t a normal illegal group, they believed in it as a family, and that meant loyalty.

Guess lesson was well-learned from Bruce.

 

Dick stirred, groaned something out in his breath. Nightmare it is, but Jefferson didn’t know that, and the look of confusion and concern mixed up on his face made Tim wanted to snicker. He almost did when the older man fumbled around to take Dick’s hand and just held it tight like he had seen his brother’s PET scan. The thing about working with Bruce was everything must function just fine even if your brain got a few lumps in it, thanked to all the falls and fights and times getting thrown to brick walls. Actually, he was sure Dick got it best in the family, or Jason, with that Ti3Au helmet of his. Bruce probably got it worst. But hey, he got Babs walking again, and all of them had already had a turn on shaking Death’s hand, things like PTSD or potential traumatic brain injury weren’t the top concerns, probably wouldn’t even make it on the top 50.

 

Jason, like a dog had sniffed the wrongness in its territory, which would be Dick, appeared right behind Tim’s back, out of nowhere. He still got his shirt off, showing off all those packs and muscles because he knew how it got Dick squealed and Bruce’s face twitched whenever they stood close enough. And Tim swore Jason must have a collection of dozens of vaguely identical cargo pants.

Honestly, what was wrong with him and military vibe?

 

“Fuck.” He swore low and strode his legs toward the bed, making Jefferson back down immediately. “Shh, baby, I’m here.” He pushed his forehead flush to Dick’s, eyes close, hands on his head’s dies, thumbs slowly stroking the older man’s cheeks gently.

 

“I’ll always be here.” He whispered and rubbed Dick’s back as he slowly relaxed back.

 

Honestly, that should have thrown Tim off. Besides from the fact that Jason had never got that charm hang around his mouth, it wasn’t like people like them got any place to say something like that, promising something that definitely couldn’t be kept. But hey, love got people blind, couldn’t say he didn’t make an attempt to something quite close to it with Steph.

Because making promises was one thing, making sure your love ones knew you’d tried was another thing.

 

Jason sighed and kissed Dick’s damp forehead when his breathing had even back. Tim always got the feeling like he had invaded their personal moment just by standing here and staring at them like this. Watching something so sweet and gentle coming from Jason like this, it wasn’t ever meant for anyone other than Dick to see and feel.

Dick always got that out of him, always got that out of everyone he was around. Jason wasn’t at Damian’s funeral, wasn’t at Tim’s funeral, wasn’t at anyone’s funeral when it happened, but he was there at Dick’s funeral, when everybody thought he was dead excep Bruce. To think about that, maybe after all these years, Bruce could finally stand back and accept the fact that his two first sons were actually made for each other as much as a troublesome couple they were.

 

Standing back up, Jason gave Dick’s forehead his calloused palm to check on his temperature, the exact same way Tim had seen Jefferson did.

“Give us a minute.”

 

Tim didn’t need a quarter of his brain to know the order wasn’t for him. As Jefferson waited no time and lightly nodded, made his way out of the room, and closed the door like taking Jason’s words was in his blood from the very beginning, he questioned if it had always been this way, that Jason had always been this much of The Narrator of his underground Fight Club network.

 

“You weren’t supposed to be back in 2 days.” Jason spoke when the room got silence sink into its floor.

“B got it faster than scheduled. Told me to go back first.” He crossed his arms again, eyes watching the way Jason’s eyes on Dick.

“Didn’t trusted us with Gotham alone?!” Jason grunted out through his teeth, bitterness could be caught from the tip of his tongue. The subject did never stop being a sour curl in Jason’s stomach.

“You know him.”

That was the closet to “no” Tim could come up without kicking the barbarian inside Jason awake.     

“He was just worried, you know.” He was not defending Bruce, really. He just didn’t trust the way Jason’s mind worked and its ability to twist everything related to Bruce to something to direct his anger on. “Robin is with the Teen Titans, Spoiler and Orphan are out helping Batgirl with the Birds of Prey, Blue Bird is currently in New York. With Red Robin, B and Batwoman all in Baghdad, Gotham was seriously lack of defense.”

“Don’t cover for him. You think I don’t have people in Arkham?!” Jason snapped, voice low enough to not wake Dick up.

“Just for precaution, Hood.”

 

He could tell, could practically see that Jason was exhausted, so he didn’t push it, chose a less conflicting way to smooth down the conversation, because anyone who had had to deal with Gotham in one whole week without Batman and the majority of his ally deserved that.

 

“Are you gonna tell B?”

After all these time, hearing this was quite offended.

“I’m not Dick.”

“I’m asking this for his sake.”

“Then you’re just proving you know me lesser than I already think you do.”

 

There was no point anyway. They had got it good, Gotham was just fine, Dick was kidnapped and shot and Jason killed and got stabbed and his gang went a little rogue to find them, things were just fine.

 

Jason gave out a sigh and casually shrugged off his pants like Tim didn’t even exist five feet away from him. He carefully crawled into bed and joined Dick under the cover. The way he breathed low and long when he hit the mattress was like an old man with a bad back, he drafted a hand over Dick’s stomach, made a mental note to avoid his wound, and just pulled his back flushed to his chest.

Talk about a way to end a conversation.

 

“Be my guest, but don’t scare my man off.” Jason mumbled after a big yawn. “He’s a good dog. I still need him.”

He nustled Dick’s neck and later on, the room was filled with nothing other than even breaths and the sound of the ticking clock on the wall.

 

After making sure those two wouldn’t wake up till the next crisis, Tim silently made his way out of the bedroom, noting himself to temporarily deactivated all his and Babs’s cameras in here. Maybe Babs would find it entertaining, but Tim didn’t need to see what a drugged up Dick and a naked Jason lying in bed together lead to, he had had enough traumas for that, thank you very much.

When he walked out to the living room, apparently, Jefferson was still there, sitting in the couch like a good dog waiting for its masters. 

 

“You.”

 

The man jolted up, eyes wide looking at Tim like he didn’t see him like this.

Honestly, what the hell?

“You’re still here.”

Jefferson just rubbed the back of his neck and looked down to his feet.

“Boss might need something.”

Jason had trained his men good.

“They’re sleeping now.” Tim hadn’t known yet whether Jason and Dick were comfortable with their henchman staying here through the night or not. Jefferson so far had only guard outside, and nightmares weren’t something any of them securely let others know.

“Oh.” Jefferson looked up and pushed his tongue to the inside of his cheek a bit, nodding knowingly. “I should leave then.”

Leave he said, meant going down to take a short nap then going back up to guard outside the door.

“Get some sleep, Jefferson. Your boss would need you in full health tomorrow.” The man was looking like he could just stand there and fall asleep at any moment. Bruce was right when he told him to come back to Gotham. Dick and Jason wouldn’t last for much longer if this continued.  

 

Jefferson was staring at him like he wanted to say something, probably wanted to ask how Tim knew his name, and what else he had currently known so far. But he held it all back, just nodded a goodbye and went out.

Jason was right, he was a good dog, a smart one who knew where he stood and whom he confronted.

 

Tim sighed and pushed his hair all back. He was tired too, had gone here as soon as possible to check on his brothers, didn’t even got more than 5 hours sleep since yesterday. He missed Steph and their apartment’s bed, but she was with Babs and The Birds of Prey now, probably kicking asses, and, honestly, he was so exhausted that the ride from here to home felt endlessly long.

He spotted the sofa, the L shape sectional coffee cream sofa that Dick bought at the mall after they’d moved here. Dick loved it, Jason didn’t, said it was too soft for his liking, honestly, Tim knew the man didn’t like its softness mainly because it gave him poor leverage on the knees for whatever kink he had in his mind.

Tim felt like loving it now. His back felt like loving it now. His brain was too ready to shut down for a moment, and the back of his mind was giving a poor attempt on fighting for its right, because those two had definitely bonded on this couch for countless times.

 

His mind still didn’t shut up when he hit the soft surface, after three seconds, it gave up.


	3. Family dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the Dick's POV some had been asking for ;)

 

 

One day, one day Dick would stop smiling and felt his heart race and warm because the sight of Jason dressing and grunting in annoyance like a hunky man-child he was. Not today though, today, and maybe till the very far tomorrow, he would still crack a curl so big that would hurt his cheeks just by watching Jason in the dressing room, struggling with the tie and swearing like the damn thing could go in a fist fight with him.

He couldn’t blame himself for being this cheesy, how long had it been till they could finally be together like this, exactly? Long, really long, long enough that took one and one to die, a few near apocalypses, and endless wars and fights. But they were here now, and Dick was sitting on the bed in their Diamond District’s penthouse, with Jason’s extortionate ring on his finger, waiting for his husband to just give up and let him lend a hand.

 

“I know you’re enjoying this, Dickface.” Jason grunted when he turned from the mirror to face Dick, hands on his collar and _tried_ to not look like he was choking himself.

 

Dick did enjoy this, very much. And Jason’s face wasn’t making it easy for him to feel guilty about it. If given time, Dick would choose to just sit here and watch this scene forever, it was peaceful, simple and so normal, a piece of so little mundane things they had. But there wasn’t any time now, and they were late, as always.

 

“Little Wing,” Dick called and stood up, walking over to Jason’s place as his husband saw him and decided it was the cue for him to give up fighting with his own clothes. “Put your hands away, you’re doing an awful job.”

Jason rolled his eyes, but listened and dropped his hands on Dick’s waist instead.

“Need to fix anything?” He asked, eyes down on Dick.

Dick did a short work with the collar and the tie, pooped few of the top buttons and loosened it to make sure Jason was comfortable because God knew his husband always fidgeted in a suit.

“Don’t worry, you look as handsome as always.” Dick chuckled and went on his toes to kiss Jason’s cheek because this man just had to have 5 inches over him.

“Like you have any room to say. Have you seen yourself, pretty bird?” Jason tightened his hold and pulled him in closer, blowing warm breaths on Dick’s skin. “Do we have to go?” He whispered.

“Jason…”

“I know, I know. Just checking.” He sighed, like thinking about the Manor alone had drained all of his strength. “We can still ditch them you know,”

Hah, didn’t Dick know.

“Tell Al we have, what, a situation? We can go to that French restaurant next to Clock Tower where I proposed you, only 15 minutes driving. Sounds good?”

Dick took a moment and hummed, totally aware of the fact that they were both slowly, slightly swinging together now.

“Tempting.”

Jason grinned, and one of his hands went down lower than it should.

“Really tempting.”

“Come on, we can go everywhere you want. The doors are always opened for the son of Bruce Wayne and Gotham’s biggest drug lord, right?”

Everyone said Jason didn’t have the mouth for devotion, wrong. He could romance when he wanted to, only with the right person.

“Hmm, it _is_ near our anniversary.” Dick wondered what Jason would pull out this year, his annual gifts and surprises that Dick had never thought he had it in him. “But Bruce invited Clack’s family, and we _promised_.”

 

Jason rolled his eyes but didn’t give it a say, he knew when he lost, and Dick always enjoyed having this power over him, over the big bad Red Hood.

They were still swinging, no music led their muted waltz, but the melody flooded in their movements, in the way they looked at each other, in the way Dick’s hands rest on Jason’s shoulder and pulled him in closer till their chests touched, in the way his husband hooked his arms tighter around his waist like the declaration of never letting go.

Jason bowed down and rested his forehead on Dick’s, was looking at him like he was his everything. It had taken a long time for him to do that, for him to express his emotions, for him to stop running and destroying everything in his range in order to cover his naked feelings. It had taken a lot for them to be here, holding each other like this.

All those fights and time and breaking hearts, it was all worth it.

  

“We need to go.” Dick breathed out when Jason’s lips ghosted over his.

As much as he enjoyed this tender moment, they were late, later than they should be. And if he let Jason kiss him now, they would spend all night swaying in silence, feeling each other’s skin and cherishing the luck of having the other.

Jason took a deep breath then sighed. His hands went up to squeeze Dick’s firmly.

“Okay.” He said, looking ready and strikingly handsome. “Let’s go.”

 

He looked at Dick, like he was his sun and moon. And Dick looked back at him, because Jason was his all and more.

 

 

The drive to the Manor wasn’t that long, especially when Jason kept smirking and reaching out for his hand despite Dick telling to drive with both hands. He was completely safe though, like hell if Jason would let anything happen, besides, his man could drive with his feet while his hands were busy punching bad guys, safety could go and suck it on its own.

 Jason got a few phone calls then and there, all from business, nothing Dick wanted to involve in. He turned on the news while waiting to see if Kate was doing okay with the city for the family to take a night off. She was awesome though, kicking ass as always, so there wasn’t much to worry about. Half way to the Manor, Dick insisted they should bring a gift, which he knew Jason thought was pointless. So Jason packed on the side at a flower shop, Dick went out of the car and just walked right through curious eyes on him and Jason’s Jaguar of the people around the street.

Dick opened the door into the flower shop and received smiles and welcome with a polite nod. He went through severely different kinds and was working on remembering what kind Bruce especially liked but hadn’t got in the garden yet. One of the florists followed him, she stood by and took a quick glance all over him, eyes still a bit longer on his Dunhill vest and the watch Bruce had given him on his 18th birthday.

He didn’t know much about flowers, so he made a quick order to make it simple and elegant, and the prize didn’t matter. Her face lit up like a flashlight and quickly, she led him to several different models of bouquet which, to be honest, Dick had no idea how to choose. He looked out the glass window of the shop only to spot Jason leaning on the car, a burning cigarette and an amused smirk on his mouth like he enjoyed seeing Dick digging his own grave.

He should have force Jason to pick the flower.

 

 

“That would be $99, sir.”

 

One hundred grant for a bouquet of white roses and bluebirds.

Dick had used to live more humble than this, believe him, he had, but Jason spoiled him, he always did and it was worst than Bruce had ever done, the living proof was lying there right on his ring finger like a mock gesture toward his good nature. Seriously, he shouldn’t be this prodigal, damn Jason and his profuse cash flows from illegal drug and weapon dealings.

He paid anyway, his parents’ fortune and his leftover saving from Spyral needed to be spent anyway. He stumbled with the leather wallet for a moment and decided to pull out the check because apparently, he hadn’t brought any cash. Nights out with Jason had never needed cash. He watched the cashier flash him a thousand watt smile and her pupils dilated as her eyes literally stuck on his face.

Dick didn’t want to be rude, only flashed her an apologetic smile as he watched her face harden when he handed over the check with his ringed hand. Her smile broke into something between awkward and shock as she spotted the too-obviously expensive ring on his finger.

Again, Jason and his illegal money.

 

Dick got back to the car with the bouquet on his hands, frowning unhappily when he spotted Jason quickly threw away his half-burned cigarette and stood up straight to open the door for him.

“You should have chosen the Rover.” He complained when reached behind to sit the bouquet down the passenger seat. They were lucky the bouquet wasn’t that big so it still fit in their tiny backseat perfectly.

“Who would have thought you would pull out shit like gift and flower.”

 

Dick rolled his eyes but let it go. Two years ago, Jason wouldn’t have let him drag him to the Manor if someone in the family wasn’t in the line of death. It took time, everything took time, and Jason was trying, was trying for the family and was trying for Dick, so it was enough, it was more than what Dick could ever ask for.

Jason’s phone rang again and this time, Dick got it and put on the speaker before Jason could react because he had noticed the ID on the screen.

 

“Jefferson, what is it?” He asked cheerfully.

Jason groaned something non-English and attempted to put it on his Bluetooth headset but Dick batted his hand away.

 _“Blue!... I thought_ _−”_

“Jay’s driving.” He said, eyes on Jason daring him to do something stupid. “What’s the problem?”

_“I just want to ask when you’ll be back. Since… you know, I’m at your place right now. Your wound still needs a check from the doctor, so…”_

 

Dick had asked him to take care of their home when he and Jason were away. Family night demanded preparations and Crime Alley wasn’t a perfect place to be seen in fancy suits and shiny car. Besides, they lived there to be invisible, to blend in well because no one in Crime Alley cared about others, all too busy saving themselves from the rottenness of this city, the last thing they wanted was to draw attention.

He looked over to Jason, who seemed to have put all of his bad moods onto the leather of the wheel. Alright, no talking right now then.

“We’ll be back tomorrow. Just stay the night, you can sleep in the guest bedroom.”

_“Wait, I’m sleeping here?!!”_

“Is there a problem?” Dick asked.

_“No!  I mean… no, I guess. Are you sure about this, is Boss okay with this?”_

Dick was about to answer but Jason cut in.

“Just stay at the damn place, it’s not the Bat Cave.”

 Actually, it was just like the Manor, home above, work below. That was why Jason had insisted on buying the place, not just because a man always found his way back home, but also because its underground system was perfect for their night activity.

“You heard the man, just stay Jeff.”

_“Yeah, I heard him. Next time, warn a guy first if you’re gonna put our conversation on speaker.”_

Jason’s forehead seemed to twitch at the ‘our’, but at least that got the job done. Dick envied it sometimes, of the power Jason had on people around him, the way he made them feel like obeying and seeing him as the Alpha so easily.

“And Jefferson,” Jason spoke, eyes on the road and one of his hands snaked down to squeeze Dick’s again. “Don’t touch what is mine.”

 

  Something told Dick that line came out a little bit more intense than he had thought it should be. He looked down at their entwined hands and over to Jason. He was wearing that look again, the look that made him age more than he was, and the deep frown between his pale blue eyes formed an odd mix of insecurity and covetousness.

_“Yes, sir.”_

Jefferson answered seconds later like he understood what Jason had said, which Dick didn’t at all, voice rough and tense like a gun was pointing at the back of his head. It felt like they were having a separate dialogue, one that Dick must not involve in.

When Jason shut the phone, he looked over to Dick, eyes so naked and warm Dick had to smile with his gut twisted in strange feelings. He moved Dick’s hand up and kissed his knuckles, lips soft and gentle, forming a tug of war inside Dick’s heart between kissing him and asking “are you okay?”.

Then he kissed the stone on Dick’s ring, on Jason’s ring, the proof of all their fights and bruises, of all their victories and delighted moments.

 

Jason was insecure, he always was when it was about Bruce and family and feelings, things he had never thought he could have had. But Dick was here, and he would always be here, Jason needed him, he needed that, he loved him, Dick knew that.

 

They were okay, because they loved each other.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

“So, have you guys thought about kids?”

 

Dick choked on his drink as Jason’s knife cut right through the ceramic dish, echoing a small crack as the room suddenly felt into silence. Lois looked around sheepishly as if she realized what she had said wasn’t quite the topic for anyone in this family.

Strange, Bruce had 8 children and yet, this still felt alien to talk about. 

 

Dick wiped the wine off his mouth and cracked a clumsy laugh, breaking the heavy dead air in the room but didn’t know what to do next. He looked over to Jason sitting next to him, watched him slowly, really slowly resume his chewing and swallow hard like Alfred’s perfect black cod suddenly turned raw in his mouth. His husband reached for his glass and emptied it in one go.

Someone was feeling anxious.

 

“This is awkward,” Lois whispered into Clark’s ear, which hadn’t missed a Bat’s ears, her eyes glanced around the quiet table as everyone in the family suddenly found their dishes interesting.

“Are you guys going to have a baby?”

 

Jon, that innocent child, asked loudly. Dick didn’t choke on anything this time, but he did almost spill the rest of his glass on his expensive vest. Clark and Lois looked at their son with wide eyes, unable to speak, Jon chirped out a small yelp as Damian (definitely him) threw something at him when no one noticed. Jason was awfully quiet, Dick thought something might have snapped in his head.

It was all up to him to save the day.

 

“We ...um, haven’t thought about that, yet.” He said, licking his lips and reaching for the drink because why the room suddenly turned so hot?

Lois smiled when he answered and dear God, she had something on her tongue ready to come out.

“Well then maybe it’s time to start thinking about it now. It’s been two years.”

Ha, honestly, gave him five years and he wouldn’t think about it if no one mentioned.

“Maybe you should wait ‘till Dick can make one.” Jason, finally, spoke nonchalantly and leaned back to his chair as Alfred popped out of nowhere like he usually did and replaced his cracked dish with a new one.

“Hey, why am I the one…” He stopped before it went too far, there were children on the table. “What he means is that we’re not ready. I don’t think Bruce is ready for a grandchild, aren’t you Bruce?”

He looked at Bruce, smiled, eyes stilled and demanded a concise answer. Bruce, the coward, shoved a forkful of food into his mouth to buy some time and avoided Dick’s stare.

“Well, I don’t mind being an uncle.” Tim spoke, his dear younger brother, the traitor.

“I’m looking forward to a Robin when I’m Batman.” Damian was a traitor too.

“She or he can carry the rings in our wedding!” Steph tucked Tim’s arm and tortured her cheeks with a grin so big it almost looked mental.

Cass gave him a thumbs up, Harper pointed at Cass to gesture her approval, and Duke just shrugged like he didn’t know what else to do or say.

 

This family, after everything he had done for them, had no moral at all, so full of traitors.

 

“Jason, honey, aren’t you going to say something?” Dick slumped back into his chair, tired and defeated. He rose an eyebrow at his husband, only to spot him hiding his smirk under the glass of wine.

“I don’t know,” Jason finally set his glass down, didn’t seem to care about hiding his amusement anymore. He sighed and put his arm on the back of Dick’s chair, eyes looked at him with a pleasant smirk. If anyone could be capable of making a grin looked both shark-like when he wanted and this sickly sweet when needed, it got to be Jason. “I kinda like their ideas.”

 

Lois’s burst out laugh must be the loudest, like she had been waiting all night long for someone to speak her mind, but it was kind of hard to say because everyone started to snigger loudly. Bruce was looking at him and _smiling_ , it explained why the man had been so quiet when Dick had asked him for help earlier.  

 

“If you need some advice, you can come to us anytime.” Clark was looking at him with soft eyes as he put his hand on Lois’s.

“He’s my son, and I have 8 children…” Bruce pointed out flatly, only to be cut off by Duke.

“Before you say it, just… no. Everybody in this room knows you’re a terrible role model of parenting.”

Bruce glared at Duke, but admitted defeated.

 

Dick turned to look at Jason, who had been staring at him tenderly the whole time. He took Dick’s hand and kissed the knuckle of his ring finger. The stone glowed a deep holy blue shine, tiny diamonds around the band sparkled like the stars above and the warm light of Jason’s blue eyes.

Dick didn’t usually wear his engagement ring outside because the stone was kinda _huge,_ it was too distracting. He had been going to wear their wedding band, it wasn’t much better, but at least the diamond (or what was it called? Jason had told him countless times that it wasn’t diamond) wasn’t this big and exorbitant looking. But then Jason had slipped this one on his finger instead when he was changing. It was hard to understand, maybe it was Jason and his possessiveness again, or he just simply enjoyed bragging it all over Bruce’s face like every damned time, declaring his wealth and ability to take care the life of his own and Dick’s beyond well without the help of the older man.  

Whatever it was, Dick didn’t complain, because Jason’s eyes on him were glowing as beautifully as the costly stones on his finger.

 

 He was serious.

Jason was serious.

 

 

 

  

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

The ride back to the penthouse was quiet, traffic was terrible when it was the weekend, everyone in the area was pouring down the street to enjoy their time with family, friends, and lover. Their car had stuck in one place what must be roughly 10 minutes now, but Dick enjoyed this moment, he enjoyed every muted second of looking out the window at the shining lights and fancy cars of Diamond District, and the reflection of Jason looking at him affectionately.

Jason took his chin and pulled his face back to meet his, thumb stroked the skin of his cheek lovingly.

“When you ready.”

 

Dick knew what he was talking about. He had been thinking about it too, hadn’t thought Jason was this ready, was this eager to build a family. But his husband was, and Dick didn’t know how to deal with that.

 

But it was alright, they were alright. He needed time, like Jason had said, when they ready, when he ready.

They loved each other, and that was all the insurance they needed.  

 

 

 


	4. Tired 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you [solalea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/solalea) for helping edit this work ;)

 

 

His shitty father was a drug dealer, a small rat crawling around the streets handling white dust. His mother was a drug addict, breathing broken words in grey smoke, leaving with memories of her high moments after syringe shots. So, no, after all the shits he had gone through with drugs, Jason hadn’t ever thought he would become a drug lord one day. Now, all of the West Coast, Mexican border and Gotham were in his hands. The gang just celebrated their victory two nights ago for widening the range of their territory and were ready to deal with the Mexican guys. Jason had actually felt pretty great, he had, really, that was, until patrol time came and here he was standing in front of a dead pregnant woman. Her belly swollen big, 6 months, no less, mouth foaming and eyes white and opened wide, syringe lying next to her, tiny zip bags cast around, mixed with the all the Lego pieces on the floor, wet by the pool of dark blood leaking between her legs.

Something in Jason died just by watching this, and something crawled back alive. This woman, she was nothing like his mom, yet, looked everything like her. Memories founds its way up from deep down inside him, pushing up and demanding to get out like the sins and demons through an ajar hell’s gate.

 

He stepped over and took one of the bags, called the police and hung up before they could get a name. He left the apartment and went back down to the dark alley where he parked his bike, shoulders heavy with the weight of a ghost sitting on them. He spotted a man in the opposite alley, leaning against a wall and smoking with a devil-may-care attitude, his arm had a tattoo, a Red Hood tattoo, Jason’s tattoo. He was one of his.

He whistled and cocked his head, motioning his hand to get the guy’s attention. The guy saw him and quickly threw his half burnt cigarette away, and came running across the road toward him.

 

“Boss, patrol time?”

“Yeah, how’s business?” He asked, could see from this angle all the stuff his thug hauled behind the denim jacket, white stuff, heroin stuff, drug stuff.

“Ah, pretty good, same old stuff, those buyers keep getting younger and younger though. Wonder what the hell happens in school nowadays?” He scratched his head and shrugged, eyes looking around the street at the drunken girls passing by them. “So what’s the deal, Boss? I heard you got a new base in the West Coast, all good stuff, ready to deal with all those Mexican top guys.”

Jason shouldn’t be proud, really, he shouldn’t. But everyone had to admit it, he was fucking good at this. Maybe after widening territory, he could get a hold on all the drugs that got imported into the States and take full control of it.

“Glad you know you’re working for a _top guy_.” He smirked, and somehow, he could tell that his thug knew it even behind the helmet. “Anyway, do you know that flat?” He pointed toward the window he had just crawled out of minutes ago.

The guy looked up and nodded.

“Yeah, I know. That place belongs to Mia Johnsons. She lives there, alone, used to be one of my most loyal customers. Pretty girl, but fucked up head. She started asking for some heavier shit than weed since she was 17, all I sold her were packs of JB though, kids like that sweet stuff. When she was old enough to take her own responsibility, I sold her everything, just like your rules. But heard she got knock up about, what, 5 months ago? I stopped dealing to her since then.”

 

Jason knew it, it wasn’t his men, wasn’t his stuff either. He got rats on _his_ streets.  

“Watch everything for me, cop’s gonna be here soon.” He patted his man’s shoulder and turned back to the motorcycle.

“What did I say when I first joined you, Boss?” He laughed, looking down his feet then back at Jason. “I can’t fight, but I can be your eyes and ears.”

 

Moments like this ensured something in Jason, that he wasn’t anything like those other drug lords, that he was different. He nodded his goodbye then drove back to the base. He had thought tonight was a good night, and with the anniversary coming up close, he had been excited, really, he had. But what he had seen and founded out tonight sucked all the joy out of him real quick.

“Boss.” Jefferson came from the tunnel to greet him, motioning the others to open the gate. “Good night?”

“You’ll find out soon.” He let his men take care of the bike and moved in. Everyone was there at the base, cleaning guns, unloading trucks, and carrying boxes of new supplies in. As busy as always.

He noticed Trevor sitting at the table in the meeting room, yelling into the phone and digging through his vocabulary of colorful curse words. Not that Jason had any place to judge, oh no, when his mouth ran out of control, English wouldn’t even be enough.

 

“Boss.” Trevor greeted after shutting off the phone, looking 3 seconds away from throwing the thing into the wall.

Jason took off his helmet, set it on the table, and took the coffee mug from the new errand boy. Swear to God, those newbies kept getting younger and younger, he might need to set some new rules on hiring next time.

“We’ve got a problem.” He threw the plastic bag out on the table, a sample of what was left in the dead pregnant woman’s apartment.

Trevor looked at it for a moment, then opened it. He dumped the stuff on the wooden surface then stirred it around with the blade of his knife. His calloused fingers ran through the white dust to give it a test then he licked his thumb, eyes suddenly widening as he looked up at Jason.

“This ain’t our stuff.”

“Yeah,” Jason pulled out a chair and sat down. “It’s fucking Methadone.”

“And we don’t sell Methadone, this stuff is still in testing for usable dosing, kills more people than even China white.” Trevor explained and looked around. “One teaspoon and you won’t feel anything, one and a third? You can stay high forever 6 feet underground.”  

“Only the savages from the Mayan gang sell this kind of stuff, and we shut their lines down 2 years ago,” Jefferson gave the dust a lick and spat it out. “This shit is raw, where did you get this Boss?”

“From a dead woman, 6 months pregnant.”

Everyone at the table made a disgusted noise, faces cringed and brows frowned like they just found a dead eel under their seat.

“Jesus Christ.” Someone swore and the air turned heavy. Heavy because one third of these men had families, families with wives and kids for them to love and take care of. Jason had these men aside from loyal loners for this particular reason, for the whole gang to stay clear and to understand, that they may be bad and ugly, but they were not savages, they were not animals. They had rules and limits, and all who stayed must understand that. That was what made them stay strong, because a good boss had good men, but a good leader had good followers.

 

“Problem is, we got rats in our house now. Rats that carry plagues and pass it on to people, rats that break rules and piss on the streets of _my_ city.” Jason stood up and said. “If they make deals with women who are 6 months pregnant, they will make deal with everyone. And the drug they sell ain’t a good one, it’s still on trial run, and those bastards hand it out still cut fresh from the cake.”

“Our intel gave us information last week, said the Chinese were getting busy.” Gilbert Henshall, ex-lieutenant of the British Military, he had gotten banned from the army for treasure and antic hunting, smuggling and using military assets for personal use, now he took care of Jason’s docks and all shipments in the area. “New cargo just made it four nights ago, 2 RoRo, tons of cake, boxes full of M4s and Glocks tucked into the containers of Volvo trucks, all with the “Huiliang” tag on it.”

“Chinese haven’t been this busy since your takeover, Boss.”

 _No one_ had been busy since he took over.

“Keep a good eye on them, send the birds out around Newtown and Sheldon Park for more scoops.” Jason rolled out the map and started marking locations. “Gilbert, take care of the Dixon Docks, it’s only a 15-minute drive to China Town, keep a team aside if you feel like it, watch everything and report back if something strange comes up. Jefferson, you send Bravo down to the Bowery, keep Sprang River clean. The rest of you contact your eyes on the streets; beggars, homeless people, hookers, whoever you use. I want info and a full picture in one week, are we clear?”

 “Roger, Boss.” They looked at the map and nodded.

 

Jason was about to start again when a guy ran into the room and held a phone in his hand.

“Boss.” He greeted.

“Knock next time.”

“I’m sorry, but… uh, Blue’s calling.”

The guy rambled and something snapped in Jason’s head. What time was it again? He looked up and the clock showed 3:20. He was late, so fucking late!

“Do you want to take it?”

Did Jason want to? Absolutely not! Because fighting scumbags with guns and C4 was one thing, fighting Dick when his husband was angry was a whole different thing. Something made Jason pull his phone out to give it a check, oh, how he regretted it.

4 missed calls.

 

The guy suddenly pulled his phone up to listen and his face paled.

“Yes… yes, sir!” When he put the phone down and turned to Jason, his words choked their way out. “He said… if you don’t get your ass home now, he’s gonna wipe the floor with it.”

 

Jason swore he heard someone snort at that. Someone that was not a thug but an important henchman that deserved to sit at this table and help Jason direct the whole gang.

There went his reputation.

“Tell him I’m on my way.”

 

_“I can hear that.”_

 

What the…?!!

 

The whole room now turned to look at him.

Eyes.

Eyes everywhere.

 

“The hell are you looking at!?” He snapped, freaking everyone out and jerking them back to work. The guy with the phone jumped a little and sweated like he had just run two marathons around Gotham. Now that Jason noticed it, the phone in his hand was still on.

Shit.

 

“I’ll be back in 15.” He groaned and sighed and just…

It was a long night, the last thing he needed now was his men giggling over the shit of how much Dick had control over him, over _them_.  

He hated Dick for this, for how easy he made Jason kneel down to his feet and kiss his toes. The Red Hood four years ago hadn’t been this desperate, the Red Hood four years ago hadn’t even thought about this future, but again, the Red Hood four years ago hadn’t been this happy.

 

_“You boys make sure he gets home in time.”_

 

Oh now _that_ was just misusing authority. He knew it, especially when all of his men laughed out loud and shot a quick “Yes, sir” back to Dick in real honesty. Jason was having a hard time dealing with Dick hating the ‘mob wife’ nickname but still acting like one.

 

“Gotta go now, babe. I’ll see you at home.” He then ripped the phone out of the thug’s hand and hit end _after_ Dick ended the call. His eyes were on the guy while he slowly slipped the device back into his bulletproof vest. Jason in the mean time, tried to suppress the urge to dig a hole in the floor and hide in it when he heard the slightest snicker coming from behind his back.

“He told me to put in on speaker, sir.”

“I know.”

Cause Dick always pulled shit like this to punish him when he felt like it. He knew the right buttons to play with. And Jason, Jason was always too helpless against him, could always feel his knees shaking for just one goddamn smile. Couldn’t blame him though, Jason was supposed to be home an hour ago. That was probably the only reason Jason found himself racing at 90mph back to their apartment in Crime Alley while work was still piling up.

 

A shipment was planned in the next 2 days, he doubted it would make it in time with the Chinese. Even with the docks on his watch, Jason still had to figure out a way to slip in a part of his heavily loaded army and not raise any supsicions. Also, he needed to check the truck line, maybe steal some more drugs to figure out the formula and track down other first-hand buyers. If this was actually the Huiliang gang, then they would sell it cheap, and a lot of it.

A guys gotta do what a guys gotta do, especially for bread and butter. Jason hadn’t made their business easy since he took over Gotham’s underworld a few years ago. Sure, it served Dick well having a well-to-do husband, and Jason _loved_ spending money on Dick. He was born a street rat, it was the most practical way of saying “I love you” or “He’s mine”. So, it was no surprise that some of Gotham’s nighttime grand-bosses were itching for an opportunity to gain back some of their shares on the street. 

 

He parked the bike in his and Dick’s very own version of the Batcave, under the building of their place and came up, he didn’t even forget give a half-hearted wave of hello and goodnight to Suzy, who was staring dagger at him for stirring up her sleep, and her dead husband’s ghost’s sleep. Either way, Jason didn’t care, he was tired to the core, he needed Dick’s hug and warmth and his sweet scent to charge him back to life. The things that guy did to him.

Jason found his husband walking out of the bathroom in the bedroom, wrapped in fancy night coat like the noble from Downton Abbey, hair still damp and steamy smoke hovering around him. Dick looked fresh and clean, like a pure gem lying in the middle of a dumpster considering the fact that he was in Crime Alley.

 

Dick looked at him and smirked, a little cute huff came out of his throat like a royal kitten just got its meat.

“Shame, you could have joined me if you were here earlier.”

 

And if the whole night hadn’t drained Jason enough, this surely did the job.

He groaned like a pained animal and grabbed Dick’s arm, pulling him down to their king size bed despite the man’s surprise yelp. Falling on top of his husband, Jason couldn’t help but let out a satisfied moan, his arms instinctively wrapping around Dick’s waist and hugging him tight. He was still clad in armor and his leather jacket, the cold metal must have brushed Dick’s naked chest, making him shudder.

“Jay,” Dick breathed out in a light purr down his throat that did things to Jason, hand going up to gently caress his hair. “Rough night?”

He simply nodded and kept clinging to Dick like a needy child. It didn’t matter though, Dick always made him want to act like a spoiled child.

“Poor you.” Dick chuckled lightly, a sweet honey-like sound that smoothed Jason’s aching head. “Want to tell me about it?”

 

One of the weirdest things about their relationship that kept Tim poking his skin all the time was that it had been a mess when they first started it, fighting and yelling and _lying_. They had never been a born-to-be couple, had fought all the time and countless night had passed with Dick leaving on the verge of tears and Jason breaking things and yelling till the inside of him shattered. The good times were good but the bad times were bad, but in the end, Jason’s ring had somehow made its home on Dick’s finger, the storms that had seemed to always hover above their heads passed away. The fights weren’t fights anymore, pity scraps about who left the oven on or who bought this ugly shit, the yelling was left in the warzone when they thought the other was dead, and the lying stayed hidden in the graveyard of Gotham’s cemetery like a taboo in their daily life.

Jason wasn’t religious but someday he had to thank whatever god up there that had blessed this magical peace in their married life. They said you’d see things you hadn’t seen before in marriage, Dick and he had seen each other’s worst, that could be the only logical reason why Jason could only feel the best in their marriage. Like right now, lying on top of Dick’s warm belly, kissing his navel while telling him everything because that was what they did for each other. Dick’s hand on his head was gentle and he smelled great, like flower and autumn and _home_. The position wasn’t anywhere near comfortable, especially with Jason weighing as much as a baby elephant, still clothed in hard and heavy armor, but Dick didn’t complain, and Jason felt like he could stay like this forever, hugging Dick tight and enjoying his touch.

 

“So, I need to check on the Chinese, mess around a bit with those candymen around the streets, probably gonna take a week or more.” He rubbed his nose on Dick’s naked skin and blew his tummy, which made him laugh beautifully.

“Need help?”

“Nah, you’re too good for this kind of shit.”

That earned him a gentle smile, one that had his heart swell and simply give up. Dick did that to him, got him on the knees without even asking, and Jason, Jason was a fool for him, a fool that knew from now on he wasn’t allowed to die if Dick wasn’t the death of him.

“And I love you, you and that little club of yours.”

“I love you too. Also, that ‘little club of mine’ you said has 400 people, not to include the eyes and ears in all places.”

“If that was supposed to make you feel proud, I would say that means I have 401 people under my command.” Dick huffed and arched his eyebrow, driving Jason’s mad with every slight movement.

“Told you the mob wife mantle suits you.” Jason said with no regret, only laughing out loud when Dick lightly batted his head.

“Your boys better not brag about it to the whole of Gotham, or else I’ll make you all regret it.”

“Aye aye, your highness.”

Dick probably didn’t notice this but half of Gotham and the whole underworld had already known Nightwing was Red Hood’s and Red Hood’s only. But Dick didn’t need to know that, messing with his husband was fun but the fun sometimes ended up with Jason lonely on the couch, so things like that should be off the table while it still could be.    

Right now, he just wanted a good night’s sleep.

 

“Baby, I’m tired.”

 

Dick must have smiled because something in Jason told him that. He bowed down to kiss his hair and cheek, hands started stripping off his leather jacket and dropped it down at the foot of the bed. He took off Jason’s armor and gloves too, clever fingers lightly brushing on his skin while doing their task, raising goosebumps on every track of them.

When Dick was done, Jason could only sigh gratefully when his bare chest could finally make contact with Dick’s skin. The only thing left was his cargo pants and the thigh holsters, Dick had pulled out the guns and threw them on the bedside table.  

“Sleep, baby. I’ll hold you tonight.”

 

Jason’s arms hugged Dick in tighter, and he quickly dropped off to the sound of Dick’s gentle hum and his warm hands. 

 

 

 


	5. Christmas shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be out on Christmas. But guess what, I must have had too many champagne that night and passed right out. The only thing I remembered next morning was how to tie the shoelace :v

 

 

For a really long time since they knew each other, Trevor saw Jeff scrolling through boxes and gifts with the determination of a man on a special mission. Yes, he did have his moments, blowing up buildings and massing people’s brains like a walking breathing meat blending machine. Crap, he had seen Jeff with a fish hook half way through his thigh and still the man looked like he still could take some more. No, for the first time in forever, Trevor saw Jeff looking around in complete incertitude, hands fidgeted for a smoke like every he did when feeling nervous.

The people at the gang would laugh their ass off if Trevor ever said this was all by Jeff’s idea from the beginning.

 

“This place is crazy, and why the hell would people need an orange peeler anyway?”

Jeff picked around the shelf and glanced around, looking like Tarzan getting himself lost in the middle of busy London streets, or in this case, a caveman in the middle of Kmart. Seriously, his friend desperately needed a shave, or Trevor was gonna have to tell Blue to tell him to do that. Jeff always listened to Blue, even when he complained about the shits Blue made him do, but still, he listened to him, every single word, and sometimes, maybe sometimes, even more than he listened to Boss.

High neck boots and cargo pants, rocking the navy Henley and black watch cap, he still dressed like a soldier, after all these years, as a living proof that all people who came back, came back different, and that patriotism didn’t die, just the belief in the system was now gone.

He looked around and frowned, acting like a lost Shepherd that barked then bit to cover up how frightened it was.

“You know, if you keep looking like that, people will start to think you’re about to steal something.” Trevor felt sorry for him.

“And do I look like I give a shit?”

“No, but the securities might do give many shits.”

“Stop being an ass and help me out. How about this?” He picked up a giant dinosaur plush, staring at it with a finger between the lip and the nose.

“Isn’t that from Kid section?”

“And Blue isn’t childish enough for you?”

“No, not with a body like that.” Trevor sighed. “Jeff, buddy, are you gonna at least tell me why you suddenly feel like you need to give him something?”

“Look around, idiot. It’s jingling wherever the place. Wait, is that table socks? Why on Earth does anyone need table socks? The table doesn’t even fucking need it itself!”

For a minute, he had Trevor speechless there, not with all the swearing and mumbling with the Christmas edition table socks package he was watching at, no, it was Jeff talking about Christmas.

Jeff, and Christmas. That was like Michael Bay and Nicolas Sparks’ novels.

“You’re shitting me.” He shouted, had the lady next to them frowning and shaking her head. “You fucking hate Christmas!”

Jeff continued to ignore him and scrolled through the next row, eyes darting around and stopped at one particular item.

“I still do, but unfortunately, someone thinks the opposite. Hey, you think they have this in like, human size?”

“Jeff, that’s a cat bed.”

“Yeah, I know that.”

The guy must be fucking joking.

“Blue’s gonna fucking plug your head off if you give him that.”

Seriously, what was wrong with Boss and Jeff and cat metaphor about Blue? To Trevor, he was always more like a bird, free and elegant and just, kind looking.

“What? I think it’s funny, and I think Boss might like it too.”

“Honestly, I don’t know it’s Blue you’re trying to impress, or Boss that you’re trying to satisfy.”

“A little bit of both, but it’s more for Blue, has always been for him.”

Right, right.

“How about bedding?”

He was just trying to help, really, because Jeff was his friend at the end, but the man gave him the eyes that suddenly made the whole atmosphere sink down the floor and Trevor’s blood freeze.

For a minute he blamed himself for being oblivious. They were at the bedding section, and dozens of them just hit his eyes and for a moment he just forgot. He really shouldn’t have forgotten because the face Jeff was making was even worse than when he was shot.

Trevor knew when was the time that Jeff was being serious. The thing about being friends that ran the same business, pretty much same backgrounds too, was that they understood each other easily. He knew how Jeff looked before he took every shot, what he would say when interrogating, how his face would change every Blue walked into the room and then into Boss’s arms.

This, however, was completely different.

Jeff just froze and went stiff like someone had stabbed him in the heart, like he had been betrayed and Trevor had slapped him right in the face with the words he had said.

Bedding, what kind of horseshit was he thinking?

He wondered what Jeff thought, when looking at the bedding like this. Did he think about Blue? About the thing he wanted to do with him but couldn’t? About the fantasy that pretty much everyone in the gang, or even this whole city had at least once when they saw Nightwing flew in the sky in a skin-tight suit, when they saw him smile that luxurious smile of him, smell that fresh and clean scent of him that taste like fresh fog by the lake before sunrise.

He couldn’t blame Jeff though, even when he desperately wanted to, because wanting something or someone that was Boss’s seemed undeniably wrong and sinful. But this was Blue, and Blue was… well, Blue.

“You know what, how about a whacky ornament?” He tried to save the situation, and lucky for him, Jeff seemed to let it go more easily than he expected.

“A whacky ornament?” He huffed.

“Yeah… like this one!” He picked up the Red Hood keychain next to him, in the line of dozens other figures, but always the Red Hood one. “Blue does have dozens of cars. He might need something to stick with his keys, right?” 

“Is that Boss’ helmet? Pft, is there supposed to be a Nightwing’s ass around here?”

 

They ended up picking a fleece bathrobe because Jeff suddenly remembered Blue’s habit of wearing nothing around the house (which, to be honest, Trevor desperately wanted to hear more but didn’t dare to ask), and him of being drawn toward soft and cozy things. The thing cost them nearly $65, and along with the boxing and wrapping and damn, Trevor never thought Christmas shopping could be this fucking costly. But hey, Jeff was loaded anyway. He lived along, had no one to take care of, had saved up pretty well since the days being hired marine and mercenary, and Boss always paid them good, especially for ones that worked close to him.

Trevor got Blue a Superman mug, because fuck Batman, and Blue would definitely like it too, of course. He had thought about buying a rosé for Blue but thought better. Giving some $20 wine for a Wayne heir and mob wife that grew up around $300 wines and fizzy champagne would be downright ridiculous. They both didn’t get something for Boss because… well, Boss was Boss and they were all men to men. Buying him something was just like asking for something back and they just couldn’t. Boss was already the best anyone of them could ever ask for. Gifts were for Blue because, well, he was Blue.

 

Oh, and they did find a Nightwing’s ass keychain in the end. The cashier gave them the look when Jeff dump every single keychain they saw of Boss and Blue on the table. This was going to take a while, but well, everyone in the gang did get a Christmas treat now.  

 

 

 

 


	6. Newbie's POV

 

Being the newbie was never fun, even worse was being a newbie in a top global crime organization. Jack took the hard swing of it, he had to admit. The guys in the gang would constantly make him run errands, pull pranks on him, call him names. Worse, they never seemed to appreciate his position or effort enough to put him on any special missions, or any missions at all. 4 months of dedication and proving himself, and all Jack had managed to do was master the art of brewing pure black coffee for the task forces and feeding the dogs. The guys on the teams wouldn’t even let him touch their gadgets, they said “greenie hands” would defile the beauty of them.

Jack called it bullshit, he had used guns before, every kid in his neighborhood knew how to shoot a gun. Trevor, the boss, used to say he must stay patient for the opportunity to prove himself.

Bullshit, again.

 

“Kid, coffee!”

The guys were calling for him again. They usually got demanding when they freshly got back from their nightly mission or patrol, and they never called Jack by name. He hated this job, running around like a servant instead of kicking ass out there, but he loved watching them.

The teams, the task forces, they were always on another level. So dang big and so dang tall, fucking fit like a bull, lurking around silently and powerfully like packs of Alphas. Most of them had roots in the military, which meant actual combat, actual war and actual life and death situations. They looked like a wet dream of a teenage girl with a daddy kink, and a high school boy’s man crush.

“Thank you, kid.” Jeff huffed and took the coffee mug from his hand.

God, this man was Jack’s idol. Big, tall, built like a brick wall, and so damn cool. He was the boss around here, the director of all the armed forces, and most importantly, he worked close to the head, the Red Hood.

This man was everything ideal to Jack, over 6 foot 2, smelling like manhood and gunpowder.

His job so far was just that, running errands and watching the people working here kick ass. Jack still remembered when he first begged for a position in this gang, and actually got it, he had imagined things a lot differently.

It wasn’t till 3 that the shift of the Raptor team came back from work. It was always the highlight of Jack’s day, opening the gate for them, watching the army of bikes and vans march into the place. They always had the best in everything, the best skills, the best ammo, vests, weird shit tracking devices, Jefferson usually led this team, tonight he had taken off.

Jack looked at the Red Hood tattoos the guys had on their body, whishing he would have the honor to wear it out like a badge in the future too.

When the team opened the door of the van, Jack realized they came back with a guest tonight, a guest of honor.

“Blue!” Jeff jumped off his seat. He set the coffee mug down the ammo table nearby and went over to the van in a speed of light. “How was tonight?”

His eyes shined like the stray dog in the alley near Jack’s place every time it saw him walk by with an extra corndog.

Nightwing smiled and took the hand Jeff offered him to get down from the van. The sight reminded Jack of the royal’s greeting he had seen on TV one time, the Queen walked out of the car, one guard opened the door for her, took her hand, offering his service, his protection, his everything.

Jeff never asked why Blue came, he only welcomed him.

“I figure I should check on you guys once in a while.” Nightwing smiled, and walked in a straight line, heading to the main door in the path everyone had parted for him.

“Blue, great night?”

“Boss’ in the room. Should I call him?”

“Do you want coffee, Blue?”

“Boss’ coming down. Have a seat.”

The world called him Nightwing, and everyone here called him Blue. The teams didn’t fear him, maybe they a little, but not like the way they feared the Red Hood, they respected him highly, and they adored him deeply. This wasn’t the first time Jack saw Nightwing, but it was the first time he had ever seen him up close.

Nightwing walked by, and Jack could hear himself gulping. Long legs and silky hair, swaying hips and graceful moves, tempting waist and an unbelievable bubble butt, Nightwing made it so damn hard for a guy to stay straight.

He took a quick glance at Jack, or maybe not. Damn, he made it difficult to say with the white lensed mask. Hank hit his elbow, and he motioned his head at the coffee pot in Jack’s hand then at Nightwing. Jack just stood there dumbfounded, didn’t understand what the heck he was trying to say because seriously, this must be the first time Hank ever really paid attention to him.

“Get him some coffee, you dumbass.” Hank grunted through the lips and teeth, eyes straight ahead like he was trying to make his frustration any less obvious.

Jack snapped out of it only then. “Oh, right.”

He poured the coffee out into one mug with shaky hands, then fidgeted with his words. “Uh… Mr. Nightwing…?”

Hank groaned and facepalmed. Seriously, he wasn’t making this any easier for Jack.

He was saved when the sound of the elevator coming down rang. Through the small glass windows of the door, he could see him, the Red Hood, the big wolf, the pack leader, the Kingpin of Gotham. The door opened, and Jack could feel himself shrinking smaller under the man’s appearance. It was hard not to remember he was working for an international criminal, a beheader of 12 crime lords, and the Bat’s bittersweet partner.  

But all of that, now discarded as the man caught sight of Nightwing on the other side of the room. From a hardcore predator, his shoulder dropped, and his pace quickened. Without a second thought, his knees hovered merely above the floor as he hunched down to hug his lover on the couch, picking him up in a tight hug around the waist, leaving Nightwing laughing from above, his legs practically off the ground.

The guys around snorted, they had gotten used to the Red Hood’s public display of affection towards Nightwing, but not Jack, not at all. He was only here for 4 months, and in those 4 months, he barely had the chance to face the Red Hood at all. The man must hold dozens of base of operation like this, and he had men to do petty jobs for him. The only ones that had the most contact with him were the teams and special task forces, and they even had a private room to rest and meet in.

“It’s good to see you here, baby.” Red Hood spoke, the red helmet made his voice came out cold and robotic. But the words he said were sweet and gentle.

“Hm, I figured it would be a nice surprise to you.” Nightwing smiled.

“It is.”

And before Jack could load it in his head, the front of the red helmet popped open, and Nightwing ducked down to catch the waiting lips. They went on for what felt like minutes, and they made it fucking audible too.

God bless his soul.

Nightwing patted the Red Hood’s shoulder and slowly, his feet were back on the floor.

“Go finish your work, I’ll wait.”

Jack didn’t get a good look at the Red Hood’s face before the front piece of the helmet flipped back in place, but he did get the toothy grin the man gave out.

Jack didn’t know what it was like to be madly in love like that, didn’t know what it felt like for a vigilante to throw away all his rules and morals to be with a crime lord, or what it felt like for a crime lord to sacrifice everything he could achieve to be with a vigilante.

He didn’t know a lot, now that he realized, but he did know one thing about this couple, that they would do everything, _everything_ to protect each other. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

On the way back from the grocery store, Jack checked everything in the bag he had.    

Eggs? Check.

Milk? Check.

Bananas? Check.

Cheetos? Check.

A half-dead man bleeding out in the alley shortcut to his flat? Fuck, why the hell not?!

He should walk away, he really should, because this was Gotham. In his neighborhood, people died all the time, they bleed out in the middle off the street and no one cares, people shoot each other and no cops come running around, people hit each other then ran away, and no one gives a shit.

He shouldn’t turn around and walk closer to this guy, he was considered dead anyway. In here, with that much blood, lying in a shit hole like this, it practically meant you had no hope anymore. Still, Jack was never the smartest guy.

“Yo, dude?” He leaned down closer, hesitating like a first-time robber, and whispered. “You dead yet man?”

The hair of the guy, long and damped, covered the most of his face, sticking to the skin and wet with dark blood. The hoodie he wore was soaked, and a lifeless hand pressed around the abdomen in an attempt to slow the bleeding.

Yep, this guy was so dead. Jack didn’t know why he was expecting anything different.

Suddenly a groan came out, and Jack’s soul jumped the shit out of his body. His feet tumbled behind and he almost landed his ass down on the ground. He nursed his chest, wondering what the fuck he was doing at 6 in the fucking morning, getting himself caught up with a dirty close to be corpse like this.

Before Jack could say anything, there were eyes, bright, so fucking bright, shining like hardcore diamonds in the movies, and blue, holy fucking shit blue, staring at him, and Jack got caught in that gaze. The color haunted him, pulled him closer and tempted to drown him in them.

Jack didn’t realize he was staring, didn’t realize he had gone speechless, because holy eyes, if God was real, he must have formed these gems with his own blood.

“I know you.” His voice came out hoarsely, rumbled and painful. But somehow the man made the breathy letters sound soft and light.

“Wha−what??” Jack babbled, mind not working right.

“You’re that kid, at the Red Hood’s base.”

Oh… oh shit.

Jack pulled out the Colt he strapped under the waistband every time he came outside. Every household in this area owned a gun, or worse, a collection. He stepped back, pointed the gun towards the guy’s head, and did his best to stay calm.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Once you worked for the Red Hood, you either tell or die. In the gang, people would rather die than let the gang get hurt. The guys at the base, they were all assholes, treating him like a servant and seeing him as a kid, but they were loveable assholes, and they cared for each other. It was Bobby that shooed him to go home when he caught Jack napping near the ammo table on a particularly long shift, it was the boss, Jeff, that let him go open the gate every time the teams got back because he knew how much Jack loved watching them, it was Mr. Trevor that sometimes casually asked if he wanted coffee instead of demanding some, and it was the Red Hood that crippled the landlord that had beaten him, had given him so many shifts despite the fact that the place he stayed was bought by his parents a long time ago.  

Once you got accepted into the gang, once you got accepted into that family, you stayed loyal.

Jack clicked the safety off, this time more confident than ever.

“I ask you again, asshole. Who the fuck are you!”

The guy sighed, like Jack’s show was exhausting him. He groaned when trying to sit up straight. “You were there, the other night.” He heaved, breathless. “Red shoes, gray t-shirt, ripped jeans. You had a gold necklace on you that night, and a coffee pot in your hand.”

The guy slowly got up and leaned heavily on the mossy wall behind him. With a wound like that, he shouldn’t be standing at all. Who was this guy?

“How… how do you know that.” Jack didn’t even remember what he had worn the last night, not even to mention the _other_ _night_ that the guy was talking about. But when he put it like that, slowly, pieces of memory clicked into place. “Red shoes, gray t-shirt, ripped jeans”, that was 3 nights ago, the night Nightwing swung by the base.

The guy huffed, pulling Jack’s attention back to him. “You were the only one who didn’t call me Blue.”

Blue…?

… Oh shit.

Oh fuck. Oh holy mighty shit!

“Nightwing?”

The guy grinned, brows knitted together in pain. “Yeah.”

OOOOOH MOTHERFUCKER!!!

“Hey-argh… Could you… could you keep it down, please?” Nightwing pleaded and groaned in pain when Jack threw the gun away like it had stung him, hands went to his hair, pulling and mouth rambling.

“Oh shitshitshit!!! What the fuck? What in the fuck??? You’re Nightwing!?” And then when he looked back at Nightwing and took in the state he was in. “Oh my God, you’re shot. Oh my God, I pointed a gun at you. Mr. Red Hood’s gonna kill me, he’s so gonna kill me!!!”

“Nope, he’s not. Not if I tell him so. Can you lend a hand, please?”

Jack all but jumped over. “O−of course!”

 

The path to his flat had never seemed that long in Jack’s entire life. With Nightwing clutching to a side of his jacket, leaning heavily on him as step by step, he seemed to lose more strength in holding his legs upright, Jack shakily climbed up the fire escape, opened up the window of his place, and did his best to get Nightwing inside without exposing how much his weight was troubling him.

Nightwing slumped down on the floor, heaving heavily to the point Jack was afraid he was gonna pass out at any time.

Jack ran into the kitchen, digging through the cabinets to find the first aid kit. He found the box, opened it, and cursed loudly at how poor everything looked. One roll of bandages, two old gauze pads, one box of half empty band-aids, one tube of some weird ointment, one tablet of antibiotic, aspirins, advils, dental floss, and no alcohol.

Shit, how the hell was he going to fix a wounded vigilante with all this junk?

No time to waste, so Jack hugged the whole box and ran back to his living room, where Nightwing had managed to climb up onto his couch. Jack hurried over, and helped the vigilante take off his hoodie. After seconds of Nightwing’s groaning and Jack’s cursing, the thing was finally off, revealing holy abs, and a nasty shot he had on the right side of his abdomen. It wasn’t a vital shot, but with the amount of blood he had lost, and was continuing to lose so far, Jack had to hurry up and do something before something more terrible happened, and the Bats, or worse, the Red Hood got involved.

Nightwing looked at him through the messy locks of his raven hair, eyes shining an impossible light.

“What do you have?”

He must have read the panic on Jack’s face. Jack didn’t have the guts to answer the man, so he opened the first aid kit and let him see it himself. Nightwing looked into the box, and went silent. Jack looked at his bleeding wound, and started panicking.

When those deep blue gems turned back on him, they were cold and collected, like their position was the opposite, like Nightwing was the one treating him, and Jack was the one bleeding out on his own couch.

“Do you have any alcohol?” He asked.

“I… I do, but they’re all so old.” They once belonged to his dad, before he died 15 years ago. Jack never touched them.

“How long?”

“15 years, could be more.”

Nightwing grunted. “That won’t work.” He frowned and sighed, clicked his tongue and stared back at Jack. “Pin? Needle?” Jack shook his head, and Nightwing grunted again, this time was out of frustration instead of pain. He took a moment before deciding. “Lemon?”

“Yeah, but… for what?”

“Just do exactly as I say.” Nightwing calmly said. “Jack,” Oh great, the guy even knew his name. What a Bat. “Dig into my hoodie’s pocket, there’s a phone there.”

Jack did as he was told and found a Wayne smartphone in the damn pocket, half covered in blood. The thing was locked with a password, and before Jack could open his mouth to ask, Nightwing spoke loudly.

“Call Jefferson.”

The phone started to dial on its own.

“Listen, Jack. I want you to introduce yourself when the other side picks up, describe the situation for him, remember to add Code Blue at the end. Make it short, but make it clear.” He grunted in pain halfway, scaring Jack a little. “He would think I’m being blackmailed if I make the call myself, so make sure you explain everything first, keep talking even when no one is answering, and then put it on speaker for me.”

Jack shakily nodded, didn’t know what to say but couldn’t stay silent.

“Is Jefferson _that_ Jefferson?”

Nightwing huffed. “Yes, he is.”

Oh lord Jesus. Here went nothing. When the other line picked up, Jack jumped right in. “Mr. Jefferson, I’m Jacob Martinez, but everybody calls me Jack. I work for the Red Hood gang at section 9, B05 under the Old Man Theater. I’m the one that gives you coffee every time you come back from patrol…” Nightwing gave him a short look, and Jack understood he shouldn’t detour around. “I found Nightwing, and he’s badly injured, a gunshot wound, he’s lost a lot of blood. I took him home and he told me to call you. And what else… oh, code Blue!”

Jack pulled the phone off his ear and opened the speaker. The line stayed silent, the only that stopped Jack from thinking that Jeff must have cut the call was the ticking clock on the screen. The time was still counting, and it must only be seconds, but to Jack, it felt like forever.

“Jeff,” Nightwing heaved, suddenly, his hand started shaking now. “Trust him.” He could barely make it audible anymore, voice breathy and shaken.

That was when the speaker rang with a short reply. “I’m on my way.”

When the call ended, Jack threw the phone away and rushed toward Nightwing, kneeling down in front of him.

“We need to take the bullet out.”

Nightwing groaned, a painful sound that made Jack wince. He grabbed on Jack’s wrist, surprisingly strong for someone in a state like this.

“Go get a knife, the smallest one you’ve got, cut the lemons in half, then burn the blade in a fire until you smell the burn.”

Jack nodded and ran like a mad man into the kitchen. He did as was ordered, pulling all the lemons he had in the fridge out, cutting them in half, nicking himself a little on the finger. He hissed when the juice stung his open wound, but no time to moan as he pull the smallest knife he had out of a rag nearby, cleaned it quickly under the tap then turned on the stove and followed Nightwing’s instruction.

When he ran back out with a glass bowl full of lemon and the steaming knife, Nightwing’s eyes were already close.    

“Shit!” Jack cursed and rushed over the couch. “Nightwing, hey man, come on.”

No response. He hunched closer and lightly patted on Nightwing’s neck, still no reply. He shook his shoulder, and his head only dropped down lifeless. Panic started rising in the pit in Jack’s stomach. He started having weird thoughts of terrible scenarios. His mind wandered to what the guys at the base would think of him if something bad happened to their Blue, and worse, he started thinking about what the Red Hood would do if his Blue got hurt.

If this kept up, if Nightwing didn’t wake up, Jack was a dead man for sure. He didn’t want to be a corpse hanging on a crane nearby some open port like the Red Hood had done to the group of assassins that had hurt his Nightwing before.

Nope, he didn’t want that. That was why there was no polite way to do this.

Jack took a lungful and then, after many _many_ second thoughts, he landed the hardest blow of his life on Nightwing’s cheek, wincing when the sticky blood printed on his hand. His palm stung after the slap, and the horror of the realization of what he had just done came crawling into his chest like a disease.

He just hit Nightwing. He just hit Nightfuckingwing. If the guys at the base knew about this, he would be ground-meat for the dogs’ dinner no doubt.

Nightwing grunted out a sheepish sound, finally.

“That hurt.” He murmured. “But thank you.”

“What should I do?” Jack kneeled down in front of the vigilante and thrust all the stuff he had prepared out for him to see.

Nightwing took a deep breath, then said. “Squeeze the lemon on your hands, then rub them together thoroughly.” He looked at Jack in the eyes, drowning him in those haunting blues. “Grab the knife, we need to get the bullet out.”

Jack had a bad feeling about this. His hands shook violently when he held tightly onto the knife. He breathed in and out, once, twice. Nightwing grabbed the discarded hoodie and bit on it. His teeth, pure white and surprisingly even, crunched on the fabric as sweat rolled down the black locks of his hair.

Jack looked at him, the last mental preparation, to Nightwing, and to himself. Nightwing nodded, and Jack dug in.

He could hear the sound of claws digging into the cheap fabric of his couch, could feel the skin shake under the movement of his fingers and the blade of the knife. Warm blood oozed out from the open wound, as cold sweat rolled down the skin. Jack’s mind went blank, all he had was focusing on pushing the bullet out with the head of the knife.  Each muffled sound felt like crawling down Jack’s chest, he felt Nightwing’s pain through each shudder of his skin. Even a small scratch would sting like a bitch when it hit the lemon juice, what kind of twisted pain could humanity possibly imagine when digging lemon coated fingers and a steaming blade into a bullet wound?

After what felt like eternity, the bullet finally came out. The thing, huge as the size of a bottle cap, lay discarded in his clean ashtray. Jack stared at it, imagined it digging into his body, imagined it punching through his blood and bones and nesting in his gust.

He felt nauseated. Nightwing dropped the hoodie’s sleeve from his mouth, heaving. His eyes hooded, sweat mixing with old blood running down his hair, dripping down onto Jack’s carpet.

“N…need to…clean it…” Nightwing breathed, words barely audible. Jack wouldn’t have caught them right if the room wasn’t too damn quiet.

Jack knew what he meant, and he looked down at the lemon bowl, gulping.

“You ready?”

Nightwing nodded. “Just get it done.”

Strange, how he was more willing and ready for this than Jack was.

 No turning back now.

Jack thrust the hoodie back into Nightwing’s mouth before he could react, then shut his eyes as his hand squeezed the lemon on the open wound.

Nightwing screamed, muffled desperate sounds that were gut-twisting-painful to hear. His legs went kicking out. Jack felt his thighs cage his sides, his hands came flying around, clawing at Jack’s shirt and back.

It was over in seconds, and suddenly, everything went back to silence. The room was filled with the ticking of the clock on the wall, the heaving of both Jack and the vigilante, and the light, wet sobs when the hoodie slipped out of Nightwing’s mouth, strings of white saliva coming with it.

Jack breathed through his mouth, looking down at the open, gaping wound on Nightwing’s abdomen. He knew what to do next, and he needed to do it quick.

Jack grabbed the lighter next to the ashtray where the bullet laid silently. He burned the knife, waited until the blade turned bright red, and pushed it to Nightwing’s abdomen.

The men cried, loud and clear and it hurt to even just hear. His legs went kicking again, and Jack let the limbs hit him, grunting out when the force was too much to handle.

It ended, quick and simple, just like that, still, Jack lost the concept of time since the moment he half carried a wounded Nightwing into his home.

When the knife landed on the carpeted floor. Jack looked back at the vigilante now lying shaken and limp, melting down into his couch. Out of instinct, he reached out, and pulled the damp hair out of Nightwing’s face.

It was the wrong decision, totally the most wrong decision in his life. He hadn’t expected the vigilante to look like this, hadn’t expect his skin to have an almost marble-like shine, with the color of a healthy sun-kissed bronze light. His eyes, deep and sparkling, drowned in a foggy haze, full and wet with tears as a few droplets rolled down from the pain. He looked back at Jack through the hooded lids, cheeks painted a drunken rose gold, his lips, full and red and wet with spit. His skin, covered in droplets of sweat and tears, glowed under the moonlight like that Disco Ball of a vampire in the girls’ Twilight movie.

If gods were true, this man must be their blood child.

Nightwing’s finger, long and slender, pointed at Jack’s first aid kit. “Give me that.”

Jack followed his order like a dog.

He pulled the ointment tube out and rubbed a generous amount around the newly formed burn, moaning out loudly, making Jack wince and blush with the sound of it. He then popped the antibiotics out of the container and popped them into his mouth, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down visibly.

“We need to cover that up.” Jack muttered and grabbed the gauze pads, trying his best to look anywhere but the mess of a vigilante next to him.

When wrapping the bandage, Jack stole glances of Nightwing, took in his side face view, the high bridge of his nose, the dark streak of blood that had dried down next to his temple, the dark thick brows that resembled the significant beauty of Latino’s, the eyes, too bright and too blue, hard to look straight into, but also hard to resist.

“I know what’s in your head.” Nightwing said, suddenly. It had been so quiet before, Jack hoped the man didn’t catch the sight of his shoulders jumping a little. “You’re judging.”

Jack didn’t know how to reply to that. He was saved when the front door sprung open. Jack never left the house without the lock on, this was Gotham, the worst part of Gotham even, houses weren’t even safe enough with the locks on. He pulled the Colt out from behind, and Nightwing grabbed the still burning knife on the table.

They were ready for the worst, until Jefferson walked in, looking both in and out of breath at the same time. He held a gun in one hand, and his face made it look like he had expected a fight. He tucked it back behind his back when one didn’t come and the only thing that greeted him was Jack unguarded and looking completely shocked, and a wounded calm looking Nightwing.

“Blue.” That was all Jeff said before he rushed over and knelt down in front of Nightwing. He checked the wound, looked around and stayed silent at the sight of the open first aid kit, the bullet in the ashtray, the lemon ball and the knife Nightwing had let go and dropped back to the table.

He touched the vigilante’s cheek, a gentle gesture from a man Jack was too used to seeing wielding guns and lethal weapons. “Anyone after you?”

Nightwing shook his head, and Jeff nodded back. He only seemed to relax then, after the confirmation.

“What happened?” He asked.

“Bank robbery, way out of my expectation when I went for a run this morning. I was out of costume, and they were firing at civilians.” Nightwing answered, still having the strength to grin at the bigger man until a strain of cough caught him. Jeff’s hand on his face slid down to his neck, rubbing soothing circles down the middle of his throat with a calloused thumb. “I had to, you know me.”

Jack watched as a heavy smile formed on Jeff’s face. He had never seen him make such an expression before.

“Yeah, so unfortunate, isn’t it?” He answered, finally.

Nightwing looked back at him for a moment, his eyes shining a mystic light when the sunlight hit them right. “Jeff…”

“I can’t.” Jeff cut in, shaking his head. “You know my job.”

“I thought your job was listening to me?” Nightwing asked sheepishly.

“You should be glad it isn’t.”

Out of nowhere, Jeff pulled out a syringe filled with some white liquid and plunged it into Nightwing’s neck. Like a kitten in panic, Nightwing grabbed onto Jeff’s jacket, pulling and scratching.

“You…”

“Shh,” Jeff took the vigilante into his arms to Jack’s surprise, drowning him in his huge form, resting his head up on the mass of his shoulder. One hand of his went up, patting and combing Nightwing’s hair. “I’m sorry, I already called him. You know how it works.”

“Hate…y..ou…”

“I know, I know. Get some rest.”

Swiftly, Nightwing’s fighting turned weak, then his limbs went powerless completely. Jeff slowly, gently, held his head upright then switched the side so it could rest on his other shoulder. His hands went around, one wormed down under Nightwing’s knees, and the other went for his armpit. Just like that, so easily, Jeff lifted the vigilante off, and carried him to the closest open door, which was Jack’s bedroom.

Jack stood alone next to the blood-stained couch dumbfounded. His fingers fidgeted once, twice before he rushed after Jeff, and was just in time to catch the sight of him laying Nightwing down on his bed gently. Jack’s eyes went wide when a small kiss landed on the vigilante’s forehead.

“Sleep well, Blue.” He whispered, which wouldn’t be audible at all if the room wasn’t so quiet.

Jack stood there again. Feet planted down on the floor and didn’t feel like moving at all, even after Jeff had left to the living room. He watched Nightwing’s even breathing, watched his closed eyelids and the way his brows knitted together even in his sleep. He remembered the color behind those closed lids then, the color of heaven and holy spirits.

When Jeff came back in, he came back with a bowl of water and a towel in hand. Jack felt like he should ask how the man got them, but he didn’t.

Jeff sat down on the bed, careful enough to avoid moving the mattress around Nightwing’s wounded side too much. He pulled all the hair out of his face, then started wiping the dry blood and sweat with the damp cloth.

Jack needed to break the silence, couldn’t take it anymore that his existence was being damn right ignored.

“What did you give him?”

“A mix of morphine and oxycodone. The usual dose doesn’t work on him, and too much methadone gives him nightmares.”

Jack regretted ever asking for an answer. Now he just made himself feel stupid in front of this man.

“How did you find this place?” He needed to change the subject. If his mind still worked right, Jack remembered his address was named during the phone call earlier.

Jeff looked back at him, finally. “The gang knows everything.”

Right.

Right.

Jack needed to sit down.

“You’ve done fine so far. I’ll inform the boss about this, later.”

The boss. He meant the boss _the boss_. Jack’s concept of big bosses had always ended at Jefferson and Mr. Trevor. Sometimes, it was too hard to look up even higher, to think further, that all the men he saw as highest, were only workers for the leash holder, the top of the top, the Red Hood.

Now thinking about that, and earlier, when he treated Nightwing’s wound, making him scream and cry. Nightwing, Batman’s partner, the Red Hood’s lover. It was easier to think of him as only Batman’s partner, because Batman didn’t kill, he might break you, he might scare you, but you walked away still breathing.

It was never the same case with the Red Hood.

Jack remembered how that cold, collective, always predatorial man could easily kneel down for this vigilante, could easily kiss him, could easily show the world how much he loved him.

If he knew Jack had touch his Nightwing, if he knew how poorly Jack had treated his wound, how he had fucking punched his lover in the face, he would sure make Jack wish death was an easy option.

“Cool down, kid.”

Jeff’s voice broke Jack out of his zone. Jack looked at him, not sure what kind of expression his face was showing, but Jeff didn’t seem to care at all. He had turned back into his usual self, no more ghosts of the warm eyes and light gentle smiles he had given Nightwing just moments ago left.

“I can smell your panic from here.”

Jack hoped he meant it figuratively. He knew he tended to sweat like a hog when nervous.

The following silence was comforting. Jeff left him space and time to calm down, to think and put things together. He only seemed to focus on Nightwing, his Blue. Maybe there was a reason behind that name, maybe it was because Jeff had looked into those eyes behind the mask so many times, had witnessed their beauty, had gotten used to being drowned in those blues like Jack had before, maybe that was why Jeff never stopped calling him Blue.

 _Blue_. To be honest, it suited him perfectly.

When Jeff was done cleaning up, Jack had made himself home on the bean bag near the window. He looked at Nightwing so he didn’t have to look at Jeff. Now that all the blood was wiped away, his hair was clean, and his face was stainless, Jack horrifically realized something.

This man, this vigilante, he couldn’t be older than Jack.

“I know what’s on your mind.” Jeff said, suddenly, like he had read Jack’s thoughts. “He’s much younger than anyone expects him to be.” He combed through Nightwing’s hair, so soft and soothing. His eyes never left him, not even once. “He’s everything you don’t expect him to be.”

Surprisingly young. Dashingly beautiful. And admirably smart.

Nightwing looked outcast, laying there like this. A face like that, a body like that, he should belong to somewhere high and expensive, somewhere suiting the high-end grace glamour of him.

“Boss’ out of the country, and he gave me one order, to protect his husband with my life. I should have never let you out of my sight.” Jeff muttered, to himself more than to Jack.

Husband. That word hit him like a train. Husband, they were married, the Red Hood and Nightwing were married. The whole of Gotham knew they were together, that they were head over heels for each other.

They weren’t just lovers. They were husbands.

 

Before the question could come to his mind, Jeff pulled out something from his jacket’s pocket, and put it on Nightwing’s finger.

“You left this at home.” He whispered, then kissed his knuckles.

Only then did Jack realize it was a ring. A black one, so damn huge and so damn shiny, reaching all the way up to Nightwing’s slim knuckle, much more beautiful than anything he had even seen on TV so far. The stone… the big one, since there were dozens of others around the band, bigger than half the size of his finger, shined brighter than the stars after a good rain, and blue as the sky in the evening.

Jack let out a gasp when he realized, that that blue, it was the same blue Nightwing’s eyes possessed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jack didn’t turn back to himself even when three weeks had passed. He constantly forgot bits and pieces, over poured the coffee and wasn’t even that joyful to go open the gate anymore. The guys told him to snap out of it, some even thought he was sick, some even mocked he was daydreaming about some chick. Jack couldn’t even care less. He thought about what happened all the time, and wondered why he was still alive at this moment.

That day, right after Jeff had finished cleaning Nightwing, the medic team had rushed in. They did some checking on the vigilante, asked Jack so many weird questions that he was too shocked to even recall, and just like how they had come, like a storm, they left just as unexpectedly too, only this time, they whisked away Jeff with Nightwing carried in his arms and tucked safely against his chest.

Jack didn’t know how many layers of locks he had put on his door after that day. He constantly felt like he was being watched, and every once in a while, a chill would run down his spine when he remembered how easily others had bashed into his place, how Jeff got in without breaking the lock, how he took things from his kitchen and knew the way to his bedroom without asking, how the medic team brought along a fully equipped first aid kit for him like they had known his own first aid kit was trash. 

Nothing was the same, especially when Jack couldn’t get those blue eyes out of his head, that youthful face, those lips. Every time he looked at the couch that could never be properly washed after what had happened on it, he would remembered what he had done there, and the person who had sat on it.

Jack could still recall his voice, soft and breathy, light as summer wind and gentle when he guided Jack in patching him up. He remembered how the man called his name, and days went by until he finally realized that that night he had dumped the mess on the table near the couch for all the home made medical tools, and a stack of month old letters and mail were on it. Nightwing must have learned his name from them.

 

Tonight didn’t make him feel better at all, the Red Hood was here tonight. Apparently, whatever the business he had out of the country was done by now, and he was back to his husband. Jack wished that if he died tonight, may it be an easy death for him.

The vans pulled up and as usual, the guys from the task force walked down. When Jack saw a hint of blue, he dropped the coffee pot down on the ammo table and rushed over to see.

Nightwing, as elegant and graceful as ever, like he didn’t take a bullet the size of a bottle cap in the stomach three weeks ago, walked down from the van with the help from the guys.  They held his hands, and arms went out waiting for the worst as he jumped down.

Jack looked at them, all surrounded to greet their beloved Blue, and suddenly a thought hit him.

_I want to be close to him too._

Jeff rushed over, like he always had, and something assured Jack that he always would too. He didn’t touch Nightwing the way he had that night at Jack’s place, and maybe it was better this way. Maybe, something was better to be untold and kept alone.

“You shouldn’t be out like this.”

“Funny, he just gave me the same line two hours ago, you wanna have the same speech I gave him?” Nightwing responded with a smirk. And his brain didn’t even have to kick in for Jack to understand, what “him” Nightwing was referring to.

Considering how Nightwing was still out in the uniform after whatever the Red Hood had warned him of, Jeff chose silence as his surrender.

Jack didn’t intend to hide, but he didn’t expect Nightwing’s gaze to fall on him either. He walked closer, the walk of a big cat, graceful, but powerful, legs strode in a straight line like a runway model. Jack was watching too much, was noticing too much, and he knew that.

When a smile greeted him, a soft curve of pretty pink lips, Jack finally knew what it felt like to be a part of this family, a part of this gang.

“Want some coffee, Blue?”

 


	7. Undercover

 

The club was noisy, so dang noisy Trevor could practically feel the floor beating down the soles of his shoes after the music. Or maybe he was just old… not that old but still old enough to hate this place.

Next to him, Jeff looked like he wanted to kill someone, or maybe this whole fucking place. The man had got his third cup of coffee this evening but it didn’t seem to be enough for this stupid mission.

“Where is that fucking woman?” He grunted, teeth ground on the cigarette between his lips.

Trevor checked his watch. 9:30, they were here early to set things up, but that bitch was fucking late. If Boss decided she died tonight, Trevor would make sure she died a painful death.

Jeff checked his phone, and then again, and again not even a minute later. Trevor knew what he was anxious about. Heck, the guy was all jumpy to get back since the beginning. It wasn’t like this was the first time he left Blue’s side as a bodyguard or as a neighbor, no, Blue would probably go apeshit if any of them tag along with him for too long. And once Blue went apeshit? Boys, even the Red Hood himself had to hide at their operation base through the night until the storm eased out.

 

_“All clear from the entrance. How is it over there, Raptor 1?”_

Trevor tapped on his com, exchanging an impatient sigh with Jeff as they both waited for a response.

“Still nothing in sight.”

_“Raptor 2 just got something. Waiting for response, over.”_

Hank went silent. Silence was never good, silence meant trouble, and honest to god, Trevor just wanted to walk out of this tripper club with information in his hands like a fucking normal human being. Next to him, Jeff was breathing out fire when a stripper clung to his arm and complimented how nice it felt.

“Um, what do you say about getting a private booth? I can give you a discount if you show me what you’re hiding beneath this suit.”

Man, if he could capture this moment with a picture. Jeff looked both disgusted and annoyed, shoving the dancer away, making him tumble backward and slam on a waiter nearby. Not even a word to say, he glared and the dancer didn’t dare to say anything else.

Trevor huffed, didn’t understand how this man and the puny one that froze and tripped every time Blue smiled, could possibly be the very same.

_“Uh… guys?”_

Finally, something.

_“I think I found her, 3 o’clock, near the plants.”_

About damn time. Both of them turned and watched their 3. A woman in red suit was sitting in a private booth, legs spread and lips curled. A dancer in exotic clothes was curling himself in front of her, clearly entertaining the fuck out of the damn woman.

 _“Before you both head there, Imma get it clear two things.”_ Hank sounded shaken, like he was sitting on fire.

“Well hurry the fuck up.” Jeff pushed.

 _“Okay, one, Trevor head their first, you do the talking. Jeff, you stay behind and cover his back.”_  Jeff nodded and stayed put, while Trevor already marched his way to the booth.  _“Two, both of you better pick who’s gonna be the one to call Boss, because I ain’t doing that shit.”_

Wait, Boss? What the fuck had he got to do with this?

He took one step ahead, shoving off his tie, tearing off the few top buttons to show the red skull tattoo he had on the right side of the chest, and the woman saw him. She grinned.

“Ah, such a killjoy. You’re right on time.” She pulled the dancer into her laps, forcing him to keep swaying and facing her with his back to Trevor. Her eyes, bright green like hellfire, they challenged Trevor.

“You Hood gang does live up to your fame.” She cupped the dancer’s hips and ground him down her laps, eyes on him the whole time.

“Did you bring the money?”

Trevor growled. “Talk first.”

“Ooh, scary. You suck off all the fun.” She laughed, looking upon her dancer, and grinned like a shark. Her hand touched him, lower, lower, until it got a handful of leather covered meat down the bottom.

Whatever expression she was expecting from Trevor, she didn’t get it. He looked straight at her, dead in the eyes, face stone cold. It made the woman huff and slump back to the couch, hand off the dancer’s butt.

That moment, that one god damn moment, he looked down and realized. Was it him or that butt was scarily familiar?

“Come back for me, sugar. It’ll be quick.” The woman smirked, and let the dancer go.

Once he turned around, lord mercy, Trevor must have blacked out for a second or two.

Silver hair, brown contacts, leather pants, naked chest… no, just naked enough under that low cut to show inviting skin, but not enough to show scars. Underneath all that disguise, it was impossible for Trevor to not realize the mother fucking Nightwing right in front of him.

Fuck. Fuckity fuck, why! Why did Boss have to go out and marry… Fuck, this wasn’t fair at all.

“So, my people got words around, heard the biker gang up north California was planning something. They shipped guns in last week, big guns, heavy steaks, ARX, SMG, even fine caviars like Tavor, Negev.”

Blue’s eyes locked on his, widened for a split second before they went back to normal. The fuck, what the actual fuck! Boys, who the fuck taught him to go undercover in a half-ass shirt like this? It was fucking 30 degrees out there, and that neck cut down too deep!

“They got it from another port, unknown yet but I take a guess it was from airline, since your gang controls the whole country’s coastline. ”

Guns… right, he was here for guns. One thing at a time. Guns…

God fucking damn it.

He grabbed on Blue’s wrist, and pulled him closer.

“Hey, I need to borrow him.” Trevor grunted, dropping down the couch right next to the woman.

She seemed surprised, but soon enough, she barked out a laugh. “Oh my my, I didn’t know you swing that way.”

Blue smirked, and draped a leg over his lap, arm swung to curl around his neck.

Was it him again or the room suddenly got a thousand degree hotter?

 _“Play along_.” was all Blue said, before he pressed every inch of himself to Trevor like a second layer of clothes. From afar, near the tables, Jeff was looking around, eyeing every hidden guard of their intel. He didn’t notice the stupid ass situation Trevor had gotten into, not yet.

“All I can tell is that they’re either waiting for something, or building something. Not sure what the hell got your panties all twisted like this, it’s goddamn World War 3 out there, you can’t just monopolize all the heavy steaks of the market forever…. Are you listening to me?”

Trevor’s head snapped back, his eyes ripped off Blue’s chest and that mischievous smirk of his.

“Yeah… yeah?” Blue pinched him, hard in the thigh. It made Trevor jointed off his ass. “What did… Ahem, can you cover that again?”

The woman fucking grinned. “Do I need to get you guys some private or‒”    

“Just fucking keep talking.”

She snickered, and Blue eyed him with the same seductive eyes that probably got Red Hood himself on his knees. Boss never really talked about it but the whole gang still knew how whipped he was for Blue. Heck, their whole fucking gang was whipped for this very same man, they couldn’t blame anyone.

 

Throughout the entire time, it was Blue who did most of the hearing, and Trevor was just sort of there, holding him tight because for Pete’s sake, Blue was wearing something that was practically nothing. Leather pants that leave no fucking thing for the imagination, lace vest in pure black and gloves?

Fuck him, this was illegal. Illegal for even criminals.

The red woman was still talking until a loud clang was heard somewhere nearby, they all turned and saw Jeff, in alcohol stained clothes helping the waiter got up. He had that look on his face, like a lost Shepherd, eyes wide and mouth agape, staring at all three of them in the booth.

Finally, he noticed Blue.

“Ooh, somebody got too wasted.” The woman laughed, all teeth on display. She reminded Trevor of the crazy Red Queen in Alice and Wonderland, only prettier, and wittier.

“So, that’s all I have for you. Where’s my money?”

The lighting in the club was dim, a nude red painting the space. Next to him, Blue felt warm and alive, every breath he took, Trevor could feel. He smelt like cologne, a cheap kind that went with his cover, but if he leaned in close enough, Trevor could smell his hair, a fresh scent like tropical coconut, like sea salt and midnight fog.

Trevor felt his head slightly go numb, and not too far away, Jeff was looking at them with accusing eyes. He looked like he wanted to murder someone, or maybe that someone was Trevor.

“It’s already transferred to your account.” His voice came out raspy, but at least it got that smirk off the woman’s face.

“You knew my account? So what’s the point of this face-to-face?”

Trevor got up, dragging Blue along with him. “To decide whether you should live or not.”

“That’s big. I’ve got people surrounding this whole place.”

Jeff huffed. “Funny, how some of you think the amount of firearm you bring along could help solving all the problems.”

The woman tensed, and she watched him drag Blue away by the forearm. The grip wasn’t that strong, but he was damn angry. Blue better got an explanation for all of this.

“So,” She said, after they had got to Jeff’s place. “Do I get to live, or what?”

Trevor eyed her, the red lips now pull into a straight serious line. He felt Blue’s present next to him, felt his delicate hand put on top of his.

“You live.” He decided. “For now.”

 

Once they got into the back of the stripper club, standing in the middle of a damp dirty alley, Jeff started yelling.

“What the flying fuck was you doing in there? And this outfit, who gave you this? How did you know her? For Christ’s sake, here.”

Jeff took off his jacket and draped in on Blue’s shoulder. The thing was way bigger than him, but Blue seemed to appreciate it and rubbed his cheek onto the collar like a needy cat.

Jeff’s eyes lingered too long on Blue’s outfit, he was starting to embarrass himself.

“Blue,” Trevor must say something, or else Jeff was gonna lose his shit. “How long have you been after her?”

Blue shrugged. “A month.”

A month. Damn. So it was all a coincidence. Maybe this was a family business kind a thing, maybe they should just let Boss handle this. Who knew, it was better this way than letting Jeff throw a tantrum just because what, his feeling couldn’t be kept in check?

Just a minute before he saw Blue, everything had been still fine.

“I’m taking you back.” Jeff said, buttoning his suit on Blue’s shoulder to secure it. Then he turned and opened his comlink. “Pull back, mission’s over. We have a priority, meet us in the back.”

“I’m not done yet.” Blue glared. He wasn’t mad yet but was close too. Trevor could feel it, Jeff could feel it. Heck, everything involved the mission would bring Blue a sour temper.

Trevor watched Jeff crunch his brows together, struggle to find his word, and sighed. “Here.” He brushed Jeff aside and fixed the jacket for Blue, thumb slightly smudging the lipstick stain on the side of his neck.   “We’ll set men to hear from her, okay?”

Blue smirked. Damn. How did Boss’s life manage to tangle in with this man? “Are you sure? She’s very careful.”

“And we have eyes everywhere.” Jeff sighed, folding his shirt up and tightened the Kevlar vest. “What do you want?”

Blue shrugged. “I need to know what she’s up to in China Town.”

From afar, Hank ran over, and then others dropped down from the rooftop. The moment they saw Blue, who was smiling nonchalantly at them, their legs started stripping.

“Heck.” Hank cursed then ran over. He turned and shouted to others. “Somebody get him a decent jacket.”

“It’s fine.” Blue waved them off, but Hank had already given him another jacket and threw Jeff’s back to him.

“No, it’s not. This one smells like cocktail, the heck did you have in there, Jeff?”

Jeff grunted, looking away.

“You’re okay with a van? Where should we drop you? Are you cold?” Hank was rambling. Hell, Trevor didn’t want to voice this but the whole fucking team was losing faces because of Blue’s present. And those guys were definitely staring at Blue’s legs right now, those tone long legs in skinny leather pants…

Trevor needed to cool his head off.  

The van pulled over after a few seconds. By the time, all the team had taken off all their jackets, folding them on their arms in case a certain person needed them. Hank went to open the door, and inside, the van that had always been half packed with cigarette, ammo, gum, and literally everything that their mission required littering down the floor, now was nothing but clean matt and empty seats. Hell, Trevor had never seen those seats that clean until today.

Blue got into the car, and once the door closed and everybody got in, Trevor watched Jeff slum down and squat on his legs, a hand leaning on the door and the other covering his face.

“Uh… dude, you okay?”

Jeff, the ultimate idiot, hugging his cocktail stained jacket and smashed it to his nose, blushing like a schoolgirl.

“He smells like coconut.”

Ultimate idiot.

“Like sea salt and midnight fog.” Jeff grinned and helped his old friend get up.

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me at [here](http://moonfox281.tumblr.com/) . I take prompt and write stupid quotes as well, so if you want to make friend or have something to ask, be my guest. Have a lovely day ;)


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